Alone In the Dark: The Legacy of the Flying Dutchman
by The Nickname
Summary: For centuries, the legends of the Flying Dutchman has spread far and wide across the world. This is a story expanding on the history of these characters and their legacies as villains. - Rated T for swearing and violence. - Reviews are encouraged.
1. Chapter 1 - Music Man

**Chapter 1: Sean O'Leary, the Music Man**

" _My music is a requiem!" – Sean O'Leary_

Sean was the child of the O'Leary family and was born within the year 1686. He was raised and spent a majority of his childhood in the city of Dublin, the very capital of Ireland. Within this city, his family had no fear of poverty amongst the many residences, and he was raised without the need to fret about losing this generous upbringing. During several of his later years, he became akin to the study of music, and intended to earn a legacy as a world renowned musician.

Sean's father was ill-equipped to teach his son any manner of music, considering how his specific field of knowledge focused on fashion and stylisation of common public attire. To compensate for this, his father hired the best musician they could find, though Sean was never choosey of what instruments he wished to practice. In the end, an expert harpsichordist was found and hired to teach Sean for a modest price, though the teacher willingly accepted the opportunity.

During the years of practising the harpsicord, Sean had unfortunately adopted a new attitude towards his teacher. Instead of being grateful for the fortune he was bestowed with, Sean was impatient and unaccepting of any responsibility for his own mistakes and failures. Nevertheless, the teacher was unwilling to consider abandoning this career, particularly for the payment he received for tolerating the family's son.

In 1702, at the ripe age of sixteen years, Sean O'Leary had eventually equalled his teacher's skill and presented them to his family, thus resulting in the teacher's eventual relief of his duties. Sean would spend the next two years working in local pubs and inns as the source of entertainment. Every pub he played at would immediately grow in popularity amongst the public, leading to many competitive pubs and taverns offering larger sums of gold for his cooperation.

In 1704, at the age of eighteen, Sean was playing in the Singing Siren tavern, and he was being celebrated for his famous ditty "The Melody of the Forlorn Mermaid". Cheers and chuckles echoed through the tavern as the widely proclaimed "Music Man" finished the final notes and leaned back in his stool in exhaustion. The entire tavern roared with applause as men and women alike drank from their beer steins and cheered for the harpsichordist.

However, the front door of the tavern suddenly burst open, diverting the attention of the entire tavern as the air fell silent. Approaching through the doorway was a man dressed in a blue rifleman's coat, marching robotically towards the harpsichordist. Standing before him, the stranger reached for his sword, and the entire tavern prepared themselves for a sudden attack. Fortunately, the stranger instead produced a document from his belt and offered it to Sean.

"Mr. O'Leary, you have been summoned to the Baron's palace for the anniversary of Ireland" the messenger informed before adding "Should you accept, transport had been provided outside this establishment". Sean then answered "' _Should I accept'_?! Of course I accept!", to which the messenger bowed and escorted him to the awaiting carriage. As he entered, everyone in the tavern left to cheer for him as he was ridden to his next destination.

Sean could not have ever expected to be the entertainment for a baron's party, no matter how far his narcissistic expectations of success could have extended. He was relatively unknown amongst the delegates, though he was quickly gaining popularity amongst the guests. He could never have believed that the following events of that night could have steered his whole life in a new and unwanted direction.

It all began when the party was slowly coming to its closure, when Sean had finished his final song and was paid for his services. As he proceeded to wander through the outer hallways of the palace, he found himself approached by three guests. "The baron would like us to thank you for your services" a guest said, Sean merely chuckling and bowing in respect to the trio, "It's nice to receive such a generous complement".

"Although, I would recommend more practice of Vivaldi. The final number was somewhat fast and rushed in comparison!"

Sean's eyes widened as he answered "What do you mean?" in a whisper. He glared towards the three blasphemers and questioned "Whatever form of such a masterpiece have _you_ heard, my friend? My portrayal was flawless!" From this, the guest then snidely remarked "You know not the meaning of perfection, sir. You have no relation to the artists we have come to respect" before turning away and taking their leave.

Suddenly, a guest was grabbed from behind and swung to the left wall, though it wasn't a wall he had encountered. Shards of glass glittered through the air as the guest fell to his undeniable death, screaming in horror all the while. It was not long until the remaining blasphemers were to accompany him, the fools attempting to combat him instead of fleeing to the aid of the royal guard. From the window, Sean gazed upon his accomplishment, muttering "My music is a requiem".

From this day, Sean O'Leary had disappeared without a trace, though he was known to be the culprit of the murders. In truth, Sean had fled the country and escaped to the neighbouring land of England, free of the law and the responsibility of his homeland. However, with his reputation in utter ruin, he was forced with remorse to mingle amongst the Englishmen, though he remained ambitious of his return to world renowned popularity.

* * *

During 1705, living within England wasn't exactly as different as Sean had expected, nor did the typical activities of the common public, for that matter. He originally spent several months within the obscured state of Kent, continuing his harpsichord performances in local inns in order to regain his lost wealth. Thankfully, he had changed his name to Walter Plinge in order to escape his previous history. Unlike before, he made an effort to remain open to criticism, though he was glad to find little of it in his working environment.

However, during March of 1705, the inn he was currently performed in was strangely empty, though the Sunday's were usually busiest of all days in the week. He eventually abandoned his helm and exited the building through the front door, surprised to find a majority of the townsfolk standing in a large crowd around a single carriage. Naturally, he mingled amongst them to learn the source of the commotion.

Within the crowd, he found the carriage to have a written 'Call to Arms' Announcement from the British army, stating " _Citizens are informed that men between ages of 18 and 55 are to be assigned to the Highlanders and attend the inspection in the town square by this evening. Failure to appear is considered treason and will be punished by imprisonment_ ". Sean was taken aback by this, considering how he had little to no knowledge of war nor combat.

Soon, however, the crowd was distracted by the approach of several armed horsemen, all wearing the identifiable British army colours. The lead horsemen raised his sword as he commanded "All men shall follow me to the town square!" Without any alternative, Sean followed alongside the other men from behind the horsemen. After a short journey, Sean was surprised to find several hundreds of men alongside a line of carriages.

Sean stood amongst the other men in the series of orderly lines, leaning to the stranger beside him asking "What's going on here?" The stranger turned to face him and answered "This is a dispatch for the Highlanders. They're taking us to Gibraltar". "What!? I thought we just got rid of those Spaniard bastards _last_ year!" Sean exclaimed, the stranger answering "Well if we scared them off before, we'll probably do it again. It's just a matter of who dies, I suppose".

"Silence in the ranks!"

The men were enlisted by the lead sergeant of the 3rd Highlanders, and they were all soon on their way to the northern provinces in the horsedrawn carriages. "A pity I never learned to fence nor to fire a gun. I suppose I'll die from this" Sean muttered nonchalantly, though a voice drew his attention as it stated "Killing a man isn't as hard as you'd think. Just aim, pull the trigger, and make sure you don't fire from the left hand".

Several suspenseful days passed by, and Sean made the most of them by practising his swordplay and marksmanship amongst the other inexperienced recruits. "I'm not even _from_ this country! Why should _I_ give a damn whether an English fort gets taken?" Sean complained, swiping a sword towards his partner. The partner blocked the attack and answered "I actually _am_ from this country, and even _then_ , I don't care".

Finally, after an entire week had passed by, the cliff of Gibraltar loomed into view, and the veteran officers cheered with relief. On the other hand, Sean remained silent from this ordeal, his sanity beginning to dwindle from the long and repetitive week that had passed. The carriages proceeded to the outskirts of the fortress and the soldiers left to join him, each soldier taking a carriage horse for themselves to mount alongside the party.

The sergeant took out his telescope and viewed the situation, before suddenly retracting it and announcing to his men "The Spanish are approaching from the Easter shore!" Immediately, every soldier followed after the sergeant as he rode onwards to the eastern bay of Gibraltar. Sean O'Leary prepared a flintlock pistol and held it to his chest, sighing in defeat as he charged to his oncoming doom.

As the war party neared the shores, the sound of gunfire began ringing through the air as Sean aimed his flintlock for any potential targets. The sight before his was almost unbelievable, dead bodies of both Spanish and British had already begun littering the sandy shores, but the Spanish still continued to charge towards the party from their flagships. Eventually, Sean spotted a lone target approaching him at full speed, so Sean aimed his flintlock and fired.

From that moment, Sean had suddenly remembered the feeling of killing another human, the feeling filling him with a sense of adrenaline. With the flintlock empty, he tossed it aside and drew his sword, before leaping from his horse and landing in the crusty sand. He searched ecstatically before he finally spotted a lone Spanish infantrymen, and ran towards him as his attention was turned to firing at another officer. The blade of the sword was plunged into the man's spine, sending him collapsing into the sand as Sean began cackling to himself with excitement.

Suddenly, all sense of joy from this situation ceased when he no longer held the sword, nor did he feel anything in his left hand. He viewed the end of his arm and found the reason instantly, his hand had been severed. He gripped the bloody stump and screamed in pain, before spotting the paralysed Spaniard wielding a bloodstained rapier. Three enraged stomps on the man's head was sure to kill him, and Sean immediately ran inwards from the shore towards the forestry.

Miraculously, Sean managed to find a stray horse and ride away from the battlefield and into a neighbouring town, where he was taken into care and his hand was mended. From this, Sean knew that any chances of regaining his musical career was in shambles, considering he had no knowledge of any instrument that didn't require individual fingers. However, for the next few years of his life, his thirst for killing would only ever increase as compensation for this loss.

* * *

An astonishing four years later, during the calm years of 1709, Sean had been traveling across the world by ship. During his journeys, he met an old sea dog named Sancho Fernandez, who was proclaimed 'The Mad Armorer' by his shipmates. After telling his life story while travelling the coast of the Caribbean, Fernandez was delighted by the man's described skill with music, and was willing to offer Sean lessons with the accordion.

Sean was pleased by this, considering the lack of a requirement for both hands to operate the instrument. During their travels, Fernandez was even kind enough the fashion a prosthetic forearm equipped with a sharp hook for the hand. With this tool, the pair had several adventures trading amongst the locals of the island, while Sean could finally demonstrate his long-lost skills with ivories as he would play for the crew.

However, during their trade routine on the Leeward Islands, Sancho Fernandez found their livestock and merchandise stolen by a band of corrupt British infantry. Apparently, according to a clearly faulty law system, the British trading companies were permitted to obtain a competitor's stock in order to gain profits for their wares. This revelation convinced the pair of traders to turn to piracy in order to have justice.

After hiring a pirate crew, the pair spent the next three years looting and pillaging from settlements and British trade flagships. Sean had the opportunity to prove his thirst for violence and was earned the role of interrogator, torturing survivors and captives with his hook for information. Their wealth increased and the crew were capable of capturing and sailing an enemy ship alongside their original, intending to use it as a Trojan horse for looting more settlements.

However, while sailing along the shores of China, their ships were suddenly locked in a three-way skirmish between the British and Chinese Trade companies. The crew managed to hold their own in the overwhelming combat, Sean and Sancho managing to prevent any traders from entering the cargo hold to steal their loot. Between the four ships, the pirates had the advantage and seemed capable of leaving this battle as the victors.

That was until more Chinese battleships emerged from the horizon, ensuing a rapidly increasing one-sided war. By the time the Chinese Traders had boarded the pirate's ship, the Trojan horse had already begun sinking as the crew abandoned the doomed vessel and its treasure. As he stood dumbfounded by this revelation, Sancho suddenly found himself in combat with the traders, though they quickly dispatched of him.

Sean held his own against the encroachers, but upon viewing the collapsed and bloody corpse of his colleague, he suddenly lost the will to continue this futile conquest. He fell to his knees in defeat, silently praying to be spared from death, though such mercy would seem impossible. But miraculously, he was instead cuffed in a pair of irons and escorted onto the Chinese ship, as the cargo hold of the ship was looted of its treasure.

As they sailed to Hai Phong, he was endlessly interrogated for information, though both he and his captors knew the futility of questioning a man who cannot understand the language. Nevertheless, he was convicted of piracy and sentenced to hang for his crimes. For the following days of confinement aboard the vessel, he couldn't help but find the situation ironic, how his quest for world-renowned reputation would end at the hands of people who would never know his name.

Amongst the few captive survivors of the skirmish, Sean was lead in an orderly line towards the gallows. He stood beneath the noose as the executioner bound the rope around his neck before tightening it, waiting patiently for the end to come. The verdict was read aloud for the surrounding public onlookers as they sneered and spat at him in disgust, Sean himself shutting his eyes upon noticing the executioner reached towards the lever.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out as the executioner grunted in pain, prompting Sean to reopen his eyes and watch as the executioner's lifeless body fell into the crowd. The crowd began panicking and fleeing in terror as the soldiers readied their firearms for combat, and Sean and the rest of the inmates gazed around them for the source of the gunshot. Everyone's questions were answered as a swarm of encroachers attacked and began firing upon the soldiers.

As soldiers dropped like flies from the overwhelming armada of criminals, a lone figure climbed the staircase to the gallows and stood before the rope. He raised his sword and sliced the rope in half, freeing Sean and his colleagues from their fate. Sean turned to his saviour, finding a handsome privateer dressed in a blue sailor's coat and an eye patch on his left eye, the man smiling smugly and he jumped from the gallows into the ensuing battle.

Sean ran to the piled weaponry and found his hook before reattaching it, and then arming himself with a flintlock. Within the mass of slaughtered Chinese infantry, trades of gunfire and the ringing of swords, Sean finally escaped the gallows and returned to the docks. There, he spotted what must've been the outlaw's ship, complete with a symbolic flag replacing the national colours. He quickly made his way to the docks in search for a means of escape.

As he did, however, he noticed the man who had saved him from the rope, who was currently amidst a duel against a pair of soldiers. Though the man held his own, he was clearly overwhelmed by the pair and was soon disarmed of his sword. The one-eyed man was backed towards the edge of the dock, and Sean decided to take the opportunity to repay the man. He ran for one of the soldiers and swung his hook with extreme force, penetrating his neck and severing the spinal cord, killing him instantly.

Using this distraction, the man quickly took the distracted guard's sword and ran him through. Sean and the man analysed eachother before Sean chuckled, explaining "You saved _my_ life, I should at least save _yours_ ". The man laughed and shouted in a gravely tone "By god, you be a man of quality!" Suddenly, a gunshot pierced the air and the pair discovered more guards approaching, the man shouting "Quick, to me ship!"

They casted off and quickly fled the armada before setting out to the open ocean, free of the fear of interception. Sean sat against the deck in exhaustion, before the man offered his hand to help him up, to which he accepted. "I like knowing the names of me colleagues in arms" the pirate stated curiously, a grin stretching across his face. The men shook hands as Sean introduced himself, "Sean O'Leary, though some call me the Music Man".

 _Joined in the year 1712 as the Jolly Roger's Musician and Interrogator._


	2. Chapter 2 - Bubble Blade

**Chapter 2: Eduardo Segura, Bubble Blade**

" _To fight in honourable combat is not for the combatants to stand at equal terms, but instead for them to stand at their greatest!" – Eduardo Segura_

Luiz was the youngest and only son of the Segura family, born in the month of September in the year 1695. He was raised for an entirety of his childhood in the decrepit slums of Toledo, a city within the central regions of Spain. Because of this, his family was constantly threatened with bankruptcy and poverty amongst the other residences, though they eventually managed to maintain their wealth through service to the Spanish army.

For a majority of his childhood, his family had established a competent career of armoury for the Spanish fleet, fashioning rapiers of steel and the highest grade firearms. From this, the military had offered consistent funding for the family's service to the army, though this had its own problematic results. Hoodlums and scroungers would often attempt to vandalise the armoury and rob the family's merchandise, so the family began endorsing a means of protecting their crafts, and their dignity.

Luiz and the rest of his family spent the following years studying fencing and armed combat, and would often demonstrate these skills to further advertise their wares. But out of the entire family, Luiz had studied and practised the hardest and longest, hoping to eventually seek a career unrelated to manufacturing weapons. Though the rest of his family were content with their positions, Luiz intended to leave a legacy for his accomplishments.

But then, one day during the year of 1709, a fourteen year old Luiz was astounded by a rude awakening. Apparently, the young and ambitious viceroy of Madrid, the capital of Spain itself, had apparently begun passing outrageous laws of taxing the military services involved with the Spanish army. Outraged by this, Luiz and his family eventually found their wares commandeered by Spanish royal guard, all the while they slowly lost the wealth to maintain their lifestyles.

And then, Luiz's parents found themselves victim to the dreaded smallpox, leaving the children alone and unprepared for their responsibilities. Because of their uninhabitable living conditions, Luiz declared the viceroy to be responsible for their misfortune. During March, he left his kin and began his venture to the northern capitol of Madrid, with intent to claim justice for both his family and the welfare of the country.

Several months had passed during the course of his vengeful journey, but the young armourer had finally completed his journey to the capital city. As he mingled amongst the crowd within the winding streets, he learned of the viceroy's public escort along the Paseo del Prado, intending to have his furnishings transported to his new manor house. Taking this opportunity to exact his revenge, he intercepted the public transportation.

Finding a surrounding crowd watching in irritation as the viceroy sat valiantly within the horsedrawn carriage, Luiz was thankful to learn that the public seemed to despise the viceroy just as much as he himself had come to. Making his way through the crowd, a swordstick confined beneath his pant legging, he quickly took his chance and leapt onto the carriage, before withdrawing his weapon and finally exacting his revenge.

The crowd was abundant with screams of horror as the carriage door was opened, the gutted viceroy tumbling from his seat and landing against the dirt. For the following hour, Luiz had used his skill in armed combat to fend of the oncoming royal guard, all while making his escape from the city. However, eventually, he was overwhelmed and subdued, before being taken into custody for the assassination of the political figure.

Pleading guilty to his crime, he was arrested and sentenced to twenty years within the walls of Santa Sangre, the state prison of Madrid. As he was escorted by carriage, he was met with a mixed reception amongst the public, several cheering for his actions while others murmured amongst eachother in terror. After several hours, he was finally led through the walls of the prison and finally placed in his cell.

* * *

As he sat in his jail cell, his crime had gathered the attention of the royal guards, who considered him with extreme disrespect and prejudice. Despite this, he was fed and offered water in equality to the other criminals, a fact that was fairly contradictive to his expectations. For the following year, he continued to train his acrobatic talents from within his cell, this act drawing the attention of the warden of the prison himself, Lieutenant Briggs.

Within 1710, the fifteen year old armourer had earned a reputation amongst the other criminals, who often considered him a hero for his accomplishment. The guards of the prison became wary of this behaviour and kept extra close watch over the prison cells, expectant of some form of half-witted escape attempt. In the time they had been within their cells, Luiz had indeed conjured a plot to escape this dreadful prison.

One day, whilst patrolling the fortified excuse for a prison, a pair of guards passed by Luiz's cell before they were drawn to the sound of a metallic _'Snikt!'_. Neither of the guards required any time to understand the meaning behind this sound, and quickly returned to unlock the cell door and confront Luiz. Their suspicions were confirmed as they watched Luiz enter a traditional stance of preparation, armed with a makeshift shank as his weapon.

Naturally unthreatened by this, the first guard drew his sword and swung to blade towards the prisoner, only to find his attack deflected by the iron instrument. With lightning speed, Luiz placed a firm grip on the guard's wrist and with a well-placed kick, struck his opponent's throat to incapacitate him. Losing his sword to his adversary, the guard was quickly disposed of with a swift stab through the heart.

The second guard drew his sword and prepared himself for combat, the inmates watching intensely as the pair swiftly clashed. Swipes and deflections were traded, though the guard was quickly exhausted and left himself open to a slice across his throat. Grasping his neck in futility, the guard was suddenly kicked towards the end of the corridor, leaning beside the window. Luiz grabbed the helpless man and turned him to face the window, before sending him through it and downwards to his inevitable death.

Barely even winded or injured from the ordeal, Luiz returned to his cell and searched the first guard, soon finding the keyring and taking it for himself. He quickly unlocked the cell doors and freed his colleagues, his next door neighbour by the name of Fandango bowing gratefully for his cellmate's generosity. Fandango took the guard's sword for himself and the inmates made their way through the prison.

Finally, after searching the many winding corridors and stairwells of the fortress, the entirety of the prisoners within the prison had been freed and made their way towards the main entrance. Luiz was the last to leave as his colleagues made their way out, after killing every guard in the building, and casually made his way to the gates to meet his allies. However, the gates were suddenly shut to prevent his escape, before the infamous Lieutenant Briggs presented himself before the young armourer.

"The others may escape, but you shall die for your crimes, fiend!" Briggs declared before his drew his sword. Luiz drew his own in response and the pair soon rushed towards eachother and clashed. Unlike his previous duels against the inferior guards of the prison, Briggs seemed to be capable and competent in the art of fencing. Luiz knew that killing this final challenge would require much time and patients.

And much time and patience it indeed took, as an astonishing two hours passed as the pair duelled between eachother. Both men were exhausted, but continued to fight through shear willpower and the desire to kill and defeat their adversary. Suddenly, as Luiz attempted to strike, his sword was suddenly disarmed as it disappeared into the furnace. Briggs raised his sword triumphantly and huffed in fatigue, before stating "Much like you, armourer, I had spent my life making these weapons. I had practised with them for my whole life".

During his explanation, Luiz turned to the furnace and spotted a sword's blade in the furnace, the blade was undoubtedly capable of charring the flesh on a human's bone. He dove for the sword before Briggs could deliver the killing blow, and quickly armed himself with his new weapon. Before the Lieutenant could react, a searing pain had emerged in his torso. He peered towards the sword as it cooked his entrails beyond repair, the pouring blood bubbling violently against the searing blade.

* * *

Soon, Luiz Segura, now known for his accomplishment as 'Bubble Blade', banded the team of inmates, forming a group of mercenaries. For the next few years, they had become the ideal team for hire by wealthy clients for performing assassinations and thefts across Spain. Eventually, they had joined the voyage to Southern America, fashioning a new life within the land called Mexico. Luiz had become one of the most feared bounty hunters in Spanish lore.

During the course of three years, an eighteen year old Luiz Segura had become greatly wealthy from his time as a bounty hunter. Several of the allies within his group had long since left the grind and earned their own independent identity, something that Bubble Blade expected the rest of his allies to do eventually. Nevertheless, he had considered them less as allies and more as a simple advantageous asset.

At times though, he considered his family, his siblings, and wondered whatever became of them while they remained in Spain. He came to assume that they had eventually suffered a similar fate that their parents suffered. Unwilling to imagine this scenario, he would disregard these notions and continue his own endeavours, aware that he would be unable to return to his family by this time. In the end, he had earned the very thing he had wanted from the beginning, a legacy.

Soon enough, he was hired for an assassination contract by a wealthy Spaniard, who explained his recent run-in with a pirate named simply Jack. Bubble Blade offered his cooperation and learned of the many key aspects to the man's appearance in order to kill him in quick success, namely for the black eye patch he wore on his left eye. Bubble Blade eagerly accepted this contract and headed for the last known location he was seen, the coastal city of Tampico.

Once there, he had been observing the crowds for any sign of this One Eyed Jack, and had listened intently to any conversations he could hear for any clues. He roamed along the docks in order to find him through a majority of his search, knowing of this man's apparent crimes of piracy. Finally, he found a ship that didn't sport the traditional Mexican flagship colours, or any colours for that matter.

He crept his way aboard and kept his eyes open for any crewmembers, before hearing a menacing cackle from above him. He turned his gaze upwards, finding a human figure standing on the top deck wielding a cutlass. Bubble Blade quickly drew his sword as the unknown watcher leapt to the deck below and swung his blade towards his assassin, though Bubble Blade quickly deflected the blow and prepared for the next strike.

However, he was surprised to find the man aiming a flintlock in his direction, defying the laws of engagement in an otherwise fair conflict. "Have you no sense of honour?" Bubble Blade questioned in disappointment, the man merely cocking the flintlock in preparation to fire. The man tilted his head upwards as his face began reflecting from the top of his forehand, revealing a black eye patch.

"The only rules I be abiding by are what ye can do to live, my friend" One Eyed Jack explained to his assassin, before asking "So tell me, what would _ye_ do to live?" In that moment, the crew had begun reboarding the vessel and witnessed this situation, arming themselves and preparing their weapons against the assassin. "Ye must be that Spanish assassin Bubble Blade, aren't ye?" One Eyed Jack analysed, before stating "Perhaps, ye could be of more use to me than to your employer".

Bubble Blade lowered his rapier and listened intently as One Eyed Jack explained "Me and me crew be planning a heist in this city, and ye could be helpful in the fray". Bubble Blade scratched his chin and considered this proposal, before One Eyed Jack added "We be taking any loot we be finding and taking it to be rationed amongst me lieutenants, ye included if ye accept". From this promise, Bubble Blade answered "Very well then, captain. When do we start?" with a smug grin.

 _Joined in the year 1713 as the Jolly Roger's First Mate and Weaponsmith._


	3. Chapter 3 - Black Hat

**Chapter 3: Alistair Fein, the Black Hat Killer**

" _Ask me to name a man among men, and I will answer 'Black Hat!'" – One Eyed Jack_

Alistair was the only child in the Fein family, born as a bastard son to a prostitute and a distributor of narcotics. From this unfortunate outcome of a potentially reasonable and temporary relationship, he was raised in this mismatched family within the year of 1895. He spent his life in the small town of Killarney, a settlement within County Kerry along the south-west of Ireland. Despite his potentially disastrous upbringing, he showed much promise as a son for his parents.

For the first eight years of his life, his mother treated him with the highest level of care she could offer. However, his father, the infamous smuggler named Sean Fein, intended to raise him in the family business in order for Alistair to succeed him when he came of age. In order to avoid confrontation from her husband and placing her son in danger, she willingly allowed Sean to go about teaching his son the lifestyle of a criminal.

Sean's mother, one Patricia Fein, during her unintentional marriage to the drug dealer, had transformed from the manic-depressive whore of a cheap brothel into an exceptional housewife, willing to perform any task for her husband with the promise of periodic relations within the following hours. Alistair was unbothered by this fact, since he was aware of his parents' history and willingly accepted his upbringing.

Alistair learned many different techniques and skills in order to achieve the reputation of a high class criminal, including lockpicking, looting of establishments, pocket picking and even a limited degree of marksmanship. With his father's flintlock, much to his parents' amazement and delight, Alistair managed to hit the target of a rum bottle from a staggering distance of fifty feet, and proceeded to replicate this act flawlessly with a second bottle.

Eventually, in the year 1703 and by the time Alistair had become eight years old, he joined his father for his first ever robbery. The heist would commence within a butcher's shop, and the accountant of the establishment soon met a grizzly end from a shot to the head delivered by the young'un. Appalled by his son's disregard of evidential placement, Sean was soon surprised by his son's plot to hide the butcher's body amongst the rest of the swill, leaving little chance of discovery.

However, one night, the duo had plotted the robbery of a shipment of explosives from a warehouse, though the father could never have predicted the following events. The overwatch and security of the explosives was so overwhelming that only a few sticks of dynamite could be taken. Under the radar of the royal guard, his father was soon captured and placed under arrest, though Alistair himself had managed to evade the guards and maintain possession of the explosives.

Sean Fein was taken to Killarney's jailhouse, and was sentenced to thirty seven years in confinement, possibly dooming the man to imprisonment for the rest of his natural life. With a plan concocted and the materials required to enact it, Alistair had fled to the belltower of St. Mary's cathedral and overwatched the doings of the yonder prison from a telescope. He discovered that his father was kept in the south-eastern corner of the prison's ward, and conjured a strategy to free his father.

Under the remaining blanket of darkness, he stealthily made his way across the surrounding vegetation of the prison wall. As soon as he found the appropriate location of preparation, he gazed upwards and found a barred window, aware that it must've lead to his father's cell. He carefully climbed the wall and peered through the pair of bars, and as expected, found Sean Fein sitting along the edge of his dirtied and bug-ridden excuse for a bed.

Alistair dropped from the window into the grass below, quickly retrieving the tools for his grand scheme from a makeshift satchel. He produced the stolen sticks of dynamite and his childhood toy bear named Ollie, ripping the seams behind his neck and stuffing the dynamite sticks inside. He intertwined the fuses together and soon returned to his satchel, producing a flint and striking it against a pound of raw iron.

The constant sounds of scratching were silent as to not arouse any attention from the patrolmen atop the wall, though the sounds were clearly heard by the prisoner himself. He leaned his head against the wall for confirmation of the source, before suddenly panicking when the scratching was replaced by the sound of a burning fuse. He soon retreated to a safe distance within his cell and waited eagerly for his incoming freedom.

' _BOOM!'_

As soon as the dynamite exploded, entire sections of the wall were hurdled in random directions, though thankfully landing at a short enough distance away from the prisoner. Sean gazed towards the hole and was utterly astounded by the sight he saw, his own son wielding the remaining two dynamite sticks. Sean ran for the hole and landed in the outside vegetation, before shouting "Alistair, you truly are a son of mine!"

Soon, however, the sound of rifles being cocked and the oncoming footsteps emanating from the hole diverted the pair's attention. Several patrolmen had arrived at the sight of the escape and discovered the hole in the wall, prompting them to open the cell door and enter. To their sudden surprise, Alistair and his father jumped from out of cover behind the outer walls and each through a lit stick of dynamite into the cell, immediately killing every man in the room and paving the way of the family's future.

* * *

For the following two years, the family had been on the run from the law, their family name and reputation finally exposed to all of the world. Alistair's father's business had been undermined by the law and his mother was unemployed. Because of this, their lives had no longer been compelled by crime, and was instead consumed by it, resulting in Sean and Alistair becoming thieves for hire and Patricia returning to her former career as a prostitute.

After the loss of their original home within Killarney, the family had travelled alongside the outskirts of County Kerry for a new home to establish their residency. Eventually, an abandoned military outpost was discovered along the borders of Kerry and Limerick, the outpost having been abandoned since 1654. However, despite its years of dereliction, the outpost had overcome the circumstances and maintained a state of preservation.

By the year 1705 and reaching the age of ten years, Alistair Fien had significantly improved his marksmanship skills beyond his own expectations, now being capable of hitting a pair of targets from fifty feet with a pair of flintlock pistols within the span of a single second. From this, Sean had fashioned a vest for his son to wear beneath his coat, sporting up to six pockets equipped with an individual flintlock pistol to use at his disposal.

After settling in the outpost, Sean and Alistair would rob storages and warehouses within the nearby city of Listowel, gaining bountiful amounts of gold to earn food. Under the false family name of Dean, they were capable of remaining anonymous amongst the townspeople of Listowel as they bought the necessary wares. Despite this unfortunately complicated routine, the lifestyle of the family had largely remained the same as before.

However, this all ended when, unbeknownst to the family, the names of Alistair and Sean had reached the attention of Captain Dickson. Dickson was the captain of the guard within the city of Listowel and was a former guard of the Killarney Prison, and remembered the escape of the criminal sharing the same name. With this speculation, he traced all available clues of the crimes and finally found the location of the abandoned outpost.

Manning a team of a dozen soldiers, Dickson waited for the cover of night to advance on the outpost and prepare for any signs of a sudden ambush. At this time, Sean had begun shaving his overgrown beard with a stolen silver razor, while Alistair continued practicing his marksmanship. Seizing the opportunity to strike, the Irish lawmen infiltrated the outpost and surrounded the family, cocking their rifles in preparation for a firefight.

Threatened by two soldiers in the kitchen, Patricia could see her husband backed into a corner of the main room by the rest of the soldiers. For a situation like this, Sean had instructed his wife in what to do to protect her family, and she carefully shifted to her left towards the oven. Suddenly, she grabbed a clay pot and chucked it at the pair of guards, splashing and soaking their outfits with oil. All it took to ignite them was a disoriented soldier firing his rifle into the ground.

Suddenly distracted by their colleagues setting themselves ablaze, the guards turned their attention away from Sean as the latter drew a concealed dagger from his sleeve. The guards weren't quick enough to react as Sean managed to slit the throats of three lawmen, though the rest of them were on their guard and managed to retaliate against him. Gunshots rang out as Sean fell to the ground, before he finally bled out and lay dead beneath his killers.

Outraged and hysterical, Patricia grabbed a second oil pot and threw it upon the remaining soldiers, though she wasn't quick enough to ignite them before she was shot down in rapid success. Alistair had heard the events from the underground armoury and had no way to react to it, as he himself had never considered the possibility of becoming alone in this life. However, because of this, he had gained the urge to slay each and every one of the soldiers without any consideration for his own safety.

He immediately ascended the stairs and cocked a pair of flintlocks, before stepping out into the open and firing two simultaneous shots towards the soldiers' heads, killing them instantly. He dropped his empty guns and retrieved a spare pair from his vest before firing them at his next two targets, slaying them in an equal fashion. The final pair of flintlocks were equipped before the soldiers could reload their matchlock rifles, and the young child had finally managed to kill the fellers of his parents.

He gazed around his surroundings and found the two dead bodies of his mother and father, unable to share any remorse for them for some extraordinary reason he could not fathom. Suddenly, beyond his expectation, a gunshot had sounded from behind him and a sharp pain in his arm made him scream in pain. Without even considering whoever was behind him he reached for his final pair of flintlocks before turning to face his attacker and firing blindly.

Alistair stepped towards the man, watching his lifeless body slide down the wall that he lay against, his black hat rolling across the floor. Alistair turned away from the man, uninterested in learning the identity of his attempted killer, and took his hat into his hands. He felt that he needed some way that he would remember this moment in his life whenever he would kill a man from this moment on, and smiled as he placed the hat on his head.

* * *

The ten year old Alistair had taken whatever possessions he could retrieve as he left the outpost, the dead within the building simply laying and rotting without any form of respect offered to them. He fled across the border between the two counties and travelled in search for a sanctuary to start his new life. Finally, he found a dock on the edge of a local town, though he didn't know the name of the town itself, and took refuge upon a ported ship.

Unfortunately, as he slept during the night, he awoke to find the ship having left port and sailing out to the open ocean. Alistair had to spend the following month inside the ship and living off of the brig's supplies, all the while avoiding detection by the sailors transporting the stock. Finally, he was delighted to find the ship making port, though he had no clue where this new land was or what it was called.

Leaving the vessel without being detected, he found himself within the market town of a tropical island, soon discovering it to be the Isle of Trinidad, the most south-eastern island in the Caribbean. Bewildered by this, he decided to continue the crime spree he had abandoned in Ireland, robbing the market town without ever being discovered. He soon gained a reputation amongst the public of the settlement, forcing him to travel across the island and into a new settlement to pillage.

This lifestyle continued for the nine following years, and the nineteen year old Alistair Fein had regained his interest in firearms. After taking contracts from a wealthy employer to assassinate targets across the Caribbean islands, he gained a reputation as an expert manhunter. For his unique means of slitting his opponents' throats with the razor edge of his hat's rim, he soon became known across the entire Caribbean as the 'Black Hat' Killer.

He gained a large wealth for his services to wealthy companies and criminal organisations, though one faithful day would alter the course of his career permanently. He sat in his humble abode, a small house with standard furnishings, awaiting a new visitor with a proposal. For days, he awaited the arrival of a contractor, and would spend his spare time maintaining his marksmanship with constant practice.

Finally, during January of 1714, the Black Hat Killer found himself confronted in the local pub, a pair of guardsmen approaching him as he drank his whiskey. "You're coming with us, Fein! Or we'll be force to kill you!" the guards announced. From this, Black Hat merely chuckled dryly and took another swig of his booze, before answering "If only you were prepared". Within a mere moment, Black Hat drew a pair of flintlocks against the guards and fired.

Silence fell within the tavern as the lifeless corpses collapsed to the floor, though one such soul was not fearful of this act. Across the bar, a man with a pint of rum smiled and clapped slowly for the gun-totter, before grabbing his pint and chugging the rest of the viscous liquid. "The Black Hat Killer, eh? I've been looking all over for ye" the man explained, revealing his face to his consultant. Black Hat took note of the man's eye patch and stated "I assume you want to offer me a job?"

"I want for ye to join me crew aboard the Jolly Roger" the one eyed man explained, "We be sailing across the Caribbean in search of settlements to raid and gold to plunder". Alistair's eyes widened as he finally realised who he was talking to, before sternly questioning "So you're the infamous One Eyed Jack, are you?" One Eyed Jack cackled and replied "Aye, the very same!" before asking "So, matey, what be ye answer?"

 _Joined in the year 1714 as the Jolly Roger's Marksman._


	4. Chapter 4 - Chef T-Bone

**Chapter 4: Tom Flaherty, Chef T-Bone**

" _My cuisine is beyond the laws of nature, and my wine may open many a door" – Tom Flaherty_

Thomas was the child to the Flaherty family, born in the year 1689 by an Irish father and a French mother. He was conceived in the small village of Inisfree, located in Ireland, and was raised in the family's celebrated inn. His father, Donovan Flaherty, was a world renowned chef and earned a reputation amongst the people of Ireland for his outstanding, if often outlandish, creations for the public to consume and enjoy.

Thomas followed in his father's footsteps and began learning the various methods of cooking, and found a particular interest with cuisine concocted from seafood. When he wouldn't practise his cooking, he would work as a janitor in his father's inn during the late nights. This work would prove to be sufficient in occupying the boy's time, as these late hours would often be the busiest of all when customers would storm through the entrance in large masses.

Donovan Flaherty was popular for his enormous, yet reasonably expensive, dishes for large groups of guests. These dishes were often guaranteed to cause bloatation amongst his customers, though Donovan anticipated this fact and considered it a reliable means for his guests to continue dining in this inn within the foreseeable future. Despite this, the food was always in the freshest condition and never would a customer ever become ill from their meal whilst dining.

However, one day, this profitable business went on to meet a tragic end when Donovan would suffer from an unexpected heart attack, leaving behind his legacy as a chef. From this, Thomas spent the following years attempting to uphold his father's legacy and continue his business in serving cuisine to the customers. The difference this time was that Thomas himself inherited the role as the head chef of the inn, creating dishes identical to the ones his father would make whilst brewing new ones.

Unfortunately, since the death of his father, business slowly began to die and customers would cease to visit the inn to sample the cuisine. Apparently, without his father's name to represent the food, the citizens of Inisfree began to lose faith in the inn and believed it would eventually become unfit for public recognition. Because of this, Thomas Flaherty immediately knew that gaining a reputation was now completely impossible.

Outraged by this unfair and disadvantageous fate that his father had placed upon him, Thomas felt it necessary to seek fortune elsewhere in the world. During 1711, and by the age of 22, Thomas Flaherty took his chance to finally erase his father's reputation. Late one night, after whatever customers remaining had finally left, he immediately set about preparing fires within each of the rooms, before finally leaving through the front door and casually wandering across the street.

From the distance of a mile, Thomas stopped in his tracks and turned to face the town of Inisfree for one final time. He could clearly see the chaotic mass of flame and destruction consuming the inn, a smile growing across his face as he finally diminished his father's remaining memory and legacy. He abandoned his name and heritage before making his way to the local docks, purchasing a boat with his family fortune and taking leave of his homeland.

He travelled across the coasts of Ireland before he came upon a port leading to what appeared to be a city. Inconsiderate of the name of this town, he ported and began meandering throughout the town in search of a career. What he found instead, was the crew of a ship ported in the docks, the crew planning a long voyage across the Atlantic and Indian Oceans and finally settling in China, and Tom considered this to be the exact opportunity he needed.

Tom approached the crew and questioned "You folks wouldn't be in need of a cook for your voyage?" "Not exactly; our cook is capable" the captain answered, before he offered "But as far as preserving the stock is concerned, we could use all the help we can possibly get". "Perfect! I'll even assist the cook if I can" The chef offered, though the captain left his stance and approached him.

"What's your name, anyway?" The captain asked curiously, Tom widening his eyes and bowing to the captain respectfully. "My apologies. I am Thomas Flaherty, but most people call me T-Bone". "A celebrity, are you? Well in that case, welcome aboard! We'll be casting off in a few hours" the captain explained, Tom smiling and answering enthusiastically "Well then… I'd guess I should get acquainted to your current cook".

For the following two years, sailing across the seas to establish a new career, Tom finally found and sought refuge in Yen Tai, a city established in the northeast of China. Making port in this remote and foreign city, he was delighted to learn of the delicacies of seafood that the city seemed to enjoy in preference. He spent the following years living within the city, studying the language until he was capable of maintaining a career amongst the people.

Finally finding work in a popular restaurant, he was introduced to his assistances, namely a pair of Asian cooks named The Cookies. These twin brothers were both almost less than half of Tom's height, though they were quick on their feet to compensate this disadvantage. He demonstrated his skills for the twin chefs, claiming "Back in Ireland, I was considered amongst the greatest chefs!" Upon completing his dish, however, the twins criticized the overwhelming size of the meals and requested it to be reduced to a much more reasonable scale.

* * *

For the following months as a chef in the restaurant, Thomas's alternative cooking skills had begun to take effect upon the customers. Clients and critics alike would credit the meals as either having a refreshing difference from any traditional cuisine, or simply being better overall. From this, Tom and the restaurant felt it necessary to increase the prices of their food to compensate for the increase in customers.

The widespread success of T-Bone and the Cookies spread throughout the nation, exactly the response that the trio felt they deserved. Soon, their wealth increased to a level that even they themselves never dared to imagine, as more and more customers helped themselves to the famous meals. However, due to the infamous financial collapse within China during November of 1714, the restaurant inevitably fell into bankruptcy.

From this, the three chefs lost their jobs and were forced to live in poverty, though they were ambitious and willing to find a way to regain a career and their former wealth. "How could these be the circumstances to befall us?" Tom asked his comrades, though they were unable to answer. Ever since he had lived his life as a chef, whether it be the law or a superior, Tom always found his reputation at the mercy of others.

"I've had enough of this!" the enraged chef announced "We will have to find our fortunes elsewhere!" Nodding to eachother in agreement, the Cookies followed T-Bone as he began his travel to the docks of Yen Tai. Once there, they became the hired crewmembers of a venture traveling southwards to the Chinese city of Macao, and the trio immediately found their place as the cooks of the crew.

Finally, after almost an entire month of sailing, the ship finally landed off of the shores of the city. The two-timing chefs immediately resigned from their duties and abandoned their colleagues, before venturing into the city with ambitious intent. "This is it, lads! Now, we get what we deserve!" Tom announced to his companions, the pair rubbing their palms in a synchronised fashion in response.

After a short journey through the city, they happened upon an establishment by the name of Madame Jojo's Gambling House, a casino themed around Chinese folklore and macabre witchcraft. Delighted by the possibilities, they entered to find a mass of at least a dozen gaming tables, each filled with a maximum number of players and several different gambling games. They approached the bar and introduced themselves to the bartender, a woman sporting a large scar on her forehead, possibly from a previous bar fight.

"Me and my mates here are looking for work, and are wondering if you could offer some" Tom asked in a respectable fashion. The woman offered her attention and answered "That depends, what you can do to be useful to me?" "I happen to be a chef. My name is Tom Flaherty, or T-Bone; whichever you prefer" the chef introduced himself. "T-Bone? I think I've heard of you… but I can't tell anymore. My memory ain't what it used to be after that last barfight" the bartender explained, before instinctually running her finger along the scar.

Soon enough, the chef had finally applied for the job as cooks within the casino, offering to serve alcohol and small meals for the gamers in the main room. They were payed a reasonable profit for their work, though they were disappointed by the lack of extravagance they could apply to such mundane meals. Nevertheless, the men had finally begun to regain what previously was of their original lives as cooks.

However, by the twisted and ill humour of fate, T-Bone and the Cookies prepared the next alignment of meals for the crew, only to be giving a rude surprise. They entered the bar to find the bartender unconscious on the floor. One of the Cookies examined her and confirmed that her original scar has now become even larger. The men entered the gaming room and found that every man and woman within the casino had begun robbing the place of its wealth.

"I wonder if we should join them in their actions. Just imagine the wealth we could gain in a few seconds in comparison to a month's worth of service" T-Bone explained, the Cookies instantly joining him in raiding the building. They pried open safes among other robbers and took whatever yen they could before returning to the game room, surprised to find that several guests had begun brawling over the money.

One such man, a fellow sporting a black eye patch, appeared to be at the mercy of a disgruntled man with a large shiv. Intending to run for the exit, Tom considered the situation and soon took a pool cue from a nearby table. In swift success, Tom managed to strike the man with a sharp blow to the head from the broad side of the cue, before him and the Cookies ran for the exit. As they did, however, the man they rescued approached the exit and watched them as they fled the scene, smiling in confirmation.

Unfortunately, as the three thieves made their way across the street, they found themselves surrounded by the Chinese lawmen. They were quickly arrested for the theft and taken to Macao's prison, sentenced each to ten years in confinement. The three criminals shared a single jail cell by the Cookies' request, though they had little faith that they would earn a reputation after their failed scheme of stealing from their own workplace.

A mere two days had passed since both Thomas Flaherty and the Cookies were placed behind bars, and the men had just about exhausted any and every means of escape. A pair of guards soon passed by and stopped before the cell, one guard turning to face the captives whilst the other strangely remained still. As the guard examined the conditions of the cell, the other guard held his hand on his sword.

Suddenly, the unfocused guard suddenly drew his sword and struck his partner from behind, piercing his spinal cord and leaving him completely immobilised. As the man fell to the ground and slowly died, the guard approached the cell door, the key to the lock in hand as he set about freeing the prisoners. As the door opened, Tom was given the chance to study the man's identity, taken aback upon discovering the man's eye patch.

"You! The man from the casino!" Tom exclaimed in surprise, though the man suddenly covered his mouth. "Follow me and keep quiet" the one eyed man instructed, leading the men through the corridor and towards the main chamber. "I killed the guards watching the front gate, but I doubt any of the guards had found them yet" he explained, before chucking malevolently. To confirm this, the four men made their way to the open gate and passed the pair of corpses, before fleeing into the town.

Approaching the docks, the one eyed man removed his disguise and exposed his blue navy coat, before relieving a sharp cackle. "Quickly, mateys! To me ship!" he shouted in a graveling tone as he began ascending the walkway onto a docked vessel. The three men joined him on the top deck and were immediately confronted by the crew, a man in a razor-bladed hat conversing with the one eyed man. "I told ye I didn't need your help in order to spring them free!" he boasted before the man, the man simply grunting in disappointment and retreating into the captain's cabin.

The one eyed man returned to the three chefs and introduced himself, "Forgive me, mates. I be One Eyed Jack, the Captain of the Jolly Roger!" "The infamous One Eyed Jack, is it? I've heard the tales; am I to be a member of your crew?" "Of course! Ye could expect no less from me after saving me life!" One Eyed Jack answered, before calling towards the rigging, "Let low the sails and us leave this god-forsaken place!"

* * *

Several hours out to see, One Eyed Jack led the men to the kitchen, and introduced the men to the ship's cook, simply named One Arm for the lack of his left arm. "Does he mean to tell me that we _once again_ must answer to _another_ chef!?" T-Bone questioned in outrage as he conversed privately with the Cookies. "We don't have to, methinks" a Cookie explained as he pulled a small bottle from his pocket, "We just have to replace him".

As the worked in the kitchen, a Cookie took a bottle of wine from the cellar, before uncorking it and pouring the viscous fluid into the wine. The Cookie approached the Captain's cabin and entered without any announcement, distracting Jack from his navigation charts as he slammed his fist against the table. "Forgive me for disturbing you, captain" the Cookie apologised, "But Chef One Arm asked of me to offer you this wine".

"Heh! I couldn't pass up an offer like that!" the captain stated as the Cookie approached him with the bottle in hand. However, the Cookie suddenly, and deliberately, lost footing and dropped the bottle against the deck of the cabin. One Eyed Jack prepared to rant, but was distracted as the wine began to mysteriously bubble and corrode the wood of the deck. One Eyed Jack remained silent as his eyebrows furrowed with rage, "Poison".

One Eyed Jack burst through the door to the kitchen and stomped his way towards the surprised chef, before suddenly grasping him by his throat. "YE SON OF A SOULLESS WHORE!" he spouted in frustration, his voice echoing throughout the ship and becoming heard by every crewmember. "A horrid fate be awaiting ye, One Arm!" Jack roared as he led the chef to the top deck, all the while continuing to strangle him.

"Black Hat!" the captain demanded, the hatted man stepping forth and responding "Aye, captain?!" "Take One Arm and prepare him for the spar!" Black Hat stomped towards the traitor and dragged him towards the mast by his left leg. One Eyed Jack climbed to the top deck and called out to his men as they formed a crowd on the top deck, "This traitor be attempting to kill me! And I be hoping none others among me crew be planning the same!"

The crew murmured suspiciously amongst eachother before One Eyed Jack silenced them, drawing his sword and raising it towards the sky. "Ye be in the hands of greatness, mateys! Me iron fist shall lead the lot of ye until it freezes in hell!" Cheers and applause rang out at the captain's promise, and the captain leapt from his platform and landed amongst his followers. Soon, hanging by the foot from a spar, the one-armed man begged for mercy, "I never be plotting any-".

"Shut your mouth!" the Captain shouted as he fixed his good eye's gaze upon the traitor, "May the boiling sun cure your flesh and tan your stinking hide, ye poxy cur!" From beneath the strung up traitor, Black Hat stood ready with his razor-bladed hat in his hand. Within the surrounding seawater, the fins of man-eating sharks glided menacingly through the waves. "No, not that!" yelped the one-armed coward, his only arm raised in defiance of his inevitable destiny.

Black Hat threw his hat into the air, the razor rim slicing through the rope before it returned to meet the marksman's grasp. One Arm plummeted into the ocean below, submerged under the waves and incapable of surfacing for air. The crew leaned over the rail, curious of whether he would drown even before the sharks would devour him. In the end, the water became stained and tainted with the blood of the traitor.

"Hurrah for the Captain!" called T-Bone, the rest of the crew chanting alongside him, though one single pirate backed away from the rail in horror. "Caramba! That seems a little harsh" muttered the Spaniard, earning a sinister glare from the chef. "Maybe _you_ want a swim too, eh?" chef T-Bone questioned with a growl, Luiz stepping away in fear and answering "No senor, I beg of you. I say nothing of the matter".

"Then shut your gob and do as ye be told, Bubble Blade!" One Eyed Jack demanded of his lieutenant, before he made his way back to his cabin. "And remember!" he announced to his crew as his back was turned, "Three knocks if you want to enter the captain's cabin". He finally turned to face his crew, announcing his final instruction; "And forget about One-Arm. Not only be he a traitor, but his cooking be only fit for swine!"

 _Joined in the year 1715 as the Jolly Roger's Cook._


	5. Chapter 5 - Frederick De Witt

**Chapter 5 – Frederick De Witt, the Brightest Star of the Night**

" _You would need many lives to beat me!" – Frederick De Witt_

Frederick was the final generation of the De Witt royal family and the true heir to the De Witt family fortune and monarchy. His father was the infamous Baron Herbert De Witt, who lived a life of wealth and power in the county of Devon, within the southern regions of England. Herbert De Witt was often considered to be conceited because of his attempts to exemplify his greatest accomplishments whilst avoiding mention of his failures.

At some point during the wintery seasons of 1692, Herbert developed a romantic affection towards a chambermaid by the name of Isabelita Negroni, whom was working for the Baron for several years. The mismatched romance led to the pair having sex before they were even legally married, leading to their hasty marriage and the unintentional birth of a son, haply named by the chambermaid as Frederick, but was known by his mother and the entire county as "The Brightest Star of the Night".

Frederick De Witt was born in the year of 1692, following his mother's official assignment to the princess and consort of Herbert De Witt. His future remaining firmly in the hands of his parents, Frederick was raised strictly and received an education to eventually succeed his father and become the next Baron of Devon. However, despite his parent's expectations, Frederick's interests lay in much more macabre studies.

In secret, Frederick developed a fascination with alchemy, and would spend whole hours every day learning any pharmaceutical recipes and concoctions. He had practised his alchemistic skills with any materials and ingredients he could find, and would conjure his tonics and even deadly poisons with his family's containers and cutlery. In order to keep these activities a secret, he would constantly request these tools to be cleaned as to 'prevent staining'.

However, during a meeting between Herbert and several other representatives of the British monarchy, Herbert had suddenly become deathly ill. As he slowly succumbed to his sickness and collapsed before his colleagues, the cause of the death had been confirmed as unidentifiable. Frederick would, at no point in his entire life, consider that his alchemy would be the cause of his father's death, and that he himself was his father's killer.

After the tragic death of his father, confusion had become abundant in the British monarchy of who was to replace him. Isabelita had refused the responsibility because of her lack of political knowledge, and Frederick remained at an age unsuited for the responsibility. This allowed Frederick to continue his experimentation with his tonics and elixirs, before he was finally renowned for his skill with pharmacy.

During 1710 and at the matured age of eighteen years, Frederick had discovered his unusual skill in gambling and exploited it in bars and inns. His skill with dealing cards and identifying possibilities of the result made him virtually impossible to defeat in games like Poker, Backgammon and Baccarat. However, his favourite game to play was the game of Piquet, and was likewise the game that earned him the highest profit.

But as his reputation increased, he became a subject to challenges from unruly patrons within the casinos he would regularly compete in. Within these challengers was the infamous Redmond Barry, who was considered the most undefeatable player of Piquet. Naturally, De Witt couldn't resist submitting to the challenge and approached him within the casino, though Barry seemed to already know of him.

The pair bet their extreme wages, wealth they had both accumulated as gamblers, and began their one-on-one game. All other games played in the casino were postponed and a crowd observed this battle of titans. The game went on for two entire hours, the fortune passing back and forth between the men until the inevitable end. Barry's single mistake of cutting resulted in the entire fortune being taken by his opponent and the game ending.

With Redmond Barry's reputation in shambles, all gamblers became terrified of playing games whenever he would join the fray. However, one man had defied the gambling juggernaut, a man by the name of Senator Grandt. De Witt happened across the Senator, the latter currently competing against the infamous femme fatale Elisha Commstock in the game of Mandarin billiards.

Frederick approached the man and challenged him to the game, the elderly man gladly accepting without the knowledge of his challenger. As Grandt began the first turn, the humble Senator had managed an impressive shot, resulting in a double. "Well, well… I see you've practised before" De Witt remarked before taking the cue for himself, "But here… allow me to show you how it's _really_ done!"

Senator Grandt was amazed and astounded as De Witt managed what was originally thought to be physically impossible, the latter managing a back-to-back pair of triples. Everyone in the casino had been informed of this feat and were awed by it, including the seductress Elisha Commstock. "Impressive work, handsome" she complemented as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, "You must be pretty good with your hands" she said with a subtle wink.

A week later, the Senator had finally tracked De Witt and challenged him to a game of poker, the foppish dandy gladly accepting. Little surprise was expressed when De Witt managed to take the Senator's three hundred pounds for himself, before taking his leave. "This doesn't end here, De Witt! I'll beat you if I spend the rest of my life trying!" the Senator cussed, De Witt stopping in his tracks to sneer at the old man.

"Senator… You would need _many_ lives to beat _me_!"

* * *

During the following five years and reaching the age of twenty three years, he had become accustom an equal quantity of both praise and prejudice from strangers. The most appealing form of attention he would receive, from his perspective, was the affection he would gain from women. Considering his noted attraction towards all women, regardless of age or spousehood, he quickly became considered the Lady's Man of England.

However, this reputation would offer its consequences towards the lusty and conceited dandy, following his invitation to the royal ball of 1715. During the course of the ball, Frederick De Witt had offered a dance to the youthful Countess of O, the public representative of the village of Hexworthy. De Witt's feminine magnetism made short work of the woman's senses, and soon lead to a night of debauchery, complete with rum and whiskey.

The following day, De Witt was horrified to find that the entire night had been a set trap for him, the Countess having prepared the events of the previous night with alternative, yet equally devious, intentions. The Countess had used a loophole in the current law system in order to have him arrested on charges of kidnapping and rape. As the following trial reached a conclusion, the sentence was a permanent assignment to the royal navy.

"That bitch! Who does she thinks she's crossing?!" De Witt spat from his jail cell, "Had I the nature to do so, I would strangle her to death!" Nevertheless, the following morning, De Witt was summoned and transported to the docks of Devon by royal escort. From there, he was ungenerously welcomed amongst the crew as they prepared the journey across the continent, De Witt being assigned as a swordsman and frontline defender.

During the first few days, De Witt approached the captain in his cabin, questioning "What are the coordinates to our destination?" The captain answered "Never _you_ mind. Though I _will_ say that we'll be heading through the Atlantic ocean, so you'll be with us for a long time" before smirking malevolently towards him. Outraged, De Witt stormed out of the cabin and relieved a sigh of knowing.

An entire month of endurance had passed during the journey across the ocean, De Witt's sanity steadily waning to the brink of hysteria. On multiple occasions, he had contemplated the murder of the captain and the rest of the crew in order to hijack the ship. However, his common sense would clarify how lost he would be in the ocean should this plot succeed, and he had persevered for the rest of the journey.

Finally, praise the lord, he had finally found the sight of land appear over the horizon, the rest of the crew being just as relieved as he was. The captain approached the helm and summoned the entire crew to the top deck to make an announcement. "Gentlemen, we have landed in the Caribbean islands!" he exclaimed, "We will be making port here to resupply until we return to the open ocean tomorrow".

De Witt found an opportunity to escape his oncoming madness and remain in the Caribbean, where he would be free of his previous responsibilities. He would no longer be burdened by the monarchy of his family, nor the destiny of becoming the next baron of Devon. However, these ambitions were challenged by his specific orders to remain on the ship and defend it from any potential attackers.

Disregarding this, he awaited the cover of night to enact his latest plot, when the rest of the crew would be asleep, save for the patrolmen. Observing for when the captain would succumb to fatigue, he left the crew's quarters and ascended to the top deck, approaching the current patrolman and requesting "The captain's has commanded that I am to relieve you", the patrolmen glaring suspiciously in response.

"Captain's orders. And besides, he wanted me to prove my usefulness to the crew" De Witt explained, the patrolmen finally conceding and leaving for the crew's quarters. Immediately, De Witt made his way to the life boat and carefully readied it for departure, since he was wary of arousing attention from the crewmembers. Finally, after a successful preparation, De Witt descended into the lifeboat and made his way for the shore.

As soon as he reached the port of the market town, he wandered through the streets in search of a perfect place to remain until the navy departed. Finally freeing himself from the responsibilities of his past life, he began a new lifestyle within the Caribbean as he travelled across the islands in search for profit. He would often visit any local pubs and taverns in the hopes to encounter a gambling game in effect, and finally manage to regain a portion of his original fortune.

* * *

Seven months after his arrival in the Caribbean, Frederick De Witt had begun travelling across the vast ensemble of islands with his eye for gold. He would spend the months visiting taverns and inns to join in gambling games, and would leave for the next town with five times the gold he entered with. Word had spread of his skill and his reputation was soon known by most innkeepers and landowners across the Caribbean islands.

After his pillaging of an entire monarchy's worth of gold from the citizens of Puerto Rico, he had left the country and set off across the ocean by boat. Finally landing on the island of Barbados, he had made port in Bridgetown, finally capable of establishing ownership of his own plantation. He would travel across the city in search of inns to gamble in, only furthering his fortune's increase and his reputation's progression.

However, as he had drained the wealth of a majority of men attending the Pirate's Inn, he was approached as he prepared his departure. "Well now… _You_ are the infamous De Witt, aren't you?!" the encroacher growled in frustration. De Witt turned on his heel and faced his consultant, answering foppishly "That would be so, my fellow man". "So you're the bastard that has sucked my family's fortune dry!" the man suddenly shouted.

"I know nothing of such, sir. I'd assume that a member of your family had gambled with me and lost" De Witt reasoned, though the man was outraged beyond reasonable thinking. "I want that money back, you son of a bitch!" he cussed violently, De Witt's patience beginning to wane. "If you wish for the money to be returned…" the dandy began before producing a deck of cards from his pocket, "You must _earn_ it back".

The men seated themselves after De Witt had received his order of white wine, before preparing the deck for a traditional game of poker. However, as the chips were arranged, a hand had reached for the deck of cards and taken a pair as a man sat in a chair opposite to De Witt. "I be joining your game, De Witt. I be hearing of ye for several months now" the newcomer stated, De Witt examining the man curiously.

"Who are you, then?" the third man asked, the man smiling with a raised eyebrow as he studied the powdered fop with his only eye. "I know you as well… You're One Eyed Jack, captain of the Jolly Roger". Within an instant, the inn fell silent as all eyes and ears focused upon the single table, One Eyed Jack cackling fearsomely. Finally, the game began, and with an audience surrounding them, the group of three began competing for the fortune.

De Witt was left speechless by the skill that One Eyed Jack offered, the conceited dandy finding himself at a stalemate with the pirate. To nobody's surprise, the third man had been quickly eliminated and left the inn, irritated by his embarrassing failure. After an entire hour passed, De Witt and Jack had exhausted the entire deck and were forced to announce a draw. The tavern whispered amongst eachother in a murmur as the pair of men left with little gained and little lost.

"Ye be a man of talent, De Witt" One Eyed Jack complemented before he added "…and such talent can be of use to me". De Witt considered the opportunity, before answering "I have a fortune that would be abandoned if I were to accept". However, as Jack sneered at the decline, the fop continued "But there's _one_ thing that's worth more than all the money in the world…. A Legacy". With that, he accepted the offer and followed One Eyed Jack to the docks.

As they approached the ported Jolly Roger, however, they discovered a ship opposite to it, a vessel currently being loaded with kegs of alcohol as cargo. "Hurry those final kegs, men! We have to get these kegs to Terra Nova before the month is out!" a crewmember commanded the transporters, "And don't _any_ of you dare drink the cider, or you will answer to the court!" Amongst the crew, De Witt had recognised the man from the inn as a crewmember aboard the ship.

"No drinking until it's in Terra Nova, eh?" De Witt questioned, twirling his moustache as he took a small bottle from his pocket. As the crew were offered a break from delivering the swag by cart, De Witt took the opportunity approach the cart while the crew were summoned aboard the ship. De Witt proceeded to open each of the kegs and pour a portion of the fluid into the contents, before resealing them as Jack looked on curiously.

"What was that ye put in those barrels?" Jack questioned De Witt as he returned to the captain, the crew re-emerging from the vessel to begin collecting the kegs from the cart. "It was poison" he chuckled heartlessly, "It will be several weeks and several hundreds of lives until they figure out what killed those fools". One Eyed Jack smiled before cackling evilly, "Me expectations were well placed, ye will be a great addition to me crew".

 _Joined in the year 1715 as the crew's Informant and pharmascist._


	6. Chapter 6 - Shorty Leg

**Chapter 6: Jeremiah Johnson Tecker, Shorty Leg**

" _None may know the name Jeremiah Johnson Tecker, but all fear the name Shorty Leg!" – One Eyed Jack_

Jeremiah was the only son of the Tecker family and was born in the year of 1703, his parents living under the name of Johnson and Cristiana. He was raised in the city of Cork, located within the southern regions of Ireland, and had spent his entire childhood in this city. His mother and father worked as surgeons and pharmacists with intentions of discovering and repelling potentially lethal diseases.

For his childhood, his mother raised him with exaggerated intention of protection, having desired to keep him safe from the possibility of infection and death from the outside world. Considering the uprise of Malaria, Polio, Smallpox and a number of sexually transmittable viruses, his parents' paranoia seemed warranted, though this treatment had come with other potentially negative effects on their son.

For the following years of remaining confined within the regions of their home had allowed for Jeremiah to develop an instance of Schizotypal personality disorder. The disconnection from the outside world and from other people had left Jeremiah with little comprehension of the true dangers he could find himself in, though his parents had little to no knowledge of psychology and weren't capable of identifying this.

Eventually he reached the age of ten years, and he was currently being taught the ways of surgery by his father. Initially, he was disturbed and cautious of these scientific practices on human bodies, though his father offered to aid him through the course of it. Steadily, Jeremiah became rather skilled with the tools for surgery, though his particular interests lay in the study of amputation and stitching of open wounds.

He was fascinated by the fact that a person could survive the loss of a limb or a life-threatening wound with the aid of inorganic tools and implements. This simple curiosity had soon evolved into an obsession, from where he eventually requested to practise amputation on a living person, his parents becoming increasingly concerned from this request. Nevertheless, they refused him this privilege, only proving to aggravate him.

At some point following the declination of his request, Jeremiah must have suffered some form of schizophrenic breakdown, which led to the ruthless deaths of both his parents as they slept. Upon accomplishing his first murder, he immediately regretted the act and became depressed, before attempting to aid his parents in recovering from their wounds. He finally had his chance to practice amputation upon a human body.

Despite their permanent state of mortality, he had carefully reattached their severed limbs and cleaned their wounds. He finally completed his work, though the final result was less then satisfying, as his parents refused to recover from their injuries. After his periodic state of delusional insanity, he ran away from home, completely disregarding his previous fears and exposing himself to the possibilities of death.

It didn't take very long for the British army to notice the Teckers' prolonged absence, and quickly decided to investigate the matter by visiting their home. As soon as they entered the house, they were greeted by the stench of pestilence, leading to a grizzly display of surgical prowess. The corpses of the Teckers were discovered to have stitches and clear severance of sections of their limbs, and the royal guard managed to search the city and find Jeremiah.

The psychotic child was imprisoned as the court decided his fate, and they finally decided to offer him to the royal navy. Perhaps, regarding his peculiar skill with surgery and knowledge of biology, he could be of use to the naval soldiers as a medical officer. Satisfied with this conclusion, the confused and terrified child was sold to the navy and he was transported by carriage to the docks of Cork.

There, he was introduced to the military captain, who was less than willing to allow a potentially psychotic individual to play such a vital role in his fleet. However, after being permitted as an official recruit, the captain was left with no choice but to escort Jeremiah to his private quarters. The captain held Jeremiah by the chain of his irons and led him below the deck of his ship, the HMS Shark.

In truth, the private quarters was a spacious cell within the brig, fitted with several containers of equipment, a bed and a surgical table. Incapable of defying his new lifestyle, Jeremiah agreed to his conditions and was locked inside. He spent the following week within the confines of his new home, constantly expectant of who would be the first to require surgery from him on this vessel.

* * *

Jeremiah did his best to serve the crew from within his confines, though little work was ever offered to him during the course of the ship's travels. As he considered it, he had no knowledge of their destination nor the purpose of their journey, and would become ever more paranoid from this lack of knowledge. He was never offered the chance to roam beyond his quarters, and Jeremiah found reminiscence of his childhood from this.

Though at some point, during their journey, Jeremiah had suddenly begun hearing the sounds of cannon fire, emanating from the top deck. "Return fire!" he heard the captain's voice call to his men, leading to more abundant sounds of explosions. Jeremiah was petrified beyond coherent thinking, having hidden under his bed in a similar manner to a small child, hiding and hoping to be safe from the exterior threat of danger.

Soon enough, the cannon fire ceased and all was quiet, save for the crashing of waves from beneath the hull of the vessel. The sound of footsteps descending the staircase emanated throughout the brig, prompting the juvenile surgeon to leave his protective bunker and stand ready for any commands. Sure enough, a pair of guards entered the brig and opened the door to his cell, escorting a wounded man inside and placing him on the table.

"What happened to him?" the surgeon asked with concern, practically bending to grovel before his superiors. "He's been shot in the chest, and he is bleeding!" the guard explained, "You must remove any ruptured organs and stitch the wound up!" Jeremiah examined the body and ran for his table of assorted tools, producing a dagger and roll of stitching thread, before returning to the body to prepare the operation.

The guard watched as the young child carefully examined the body's contents, finding themselves queasy from the exposure to the man's entrails. A mere minute was spent searching the wounds until Jeremiah made a bizarre discovery, there was several powder marks surrounding the man's abdomen. He carefully lifted the man and peered towards his back, discovering the lack of a bullet hole the shot would have left.

"This man was not shot" he exclaimed to the guards, "If he was, there would be a clear hole straight though to his back". "What does this mean, then? He was injured whilst our enemy weren't aboard" the guard explained, just as the surgeon finished stitching the wound. Jeremiah considered this and answered "This must actually be a stab wound. He was stabbed by someone on this ship!"

Immediately as this was stated, the pair of guards left the room and locked the door shut, before leaving the brig and ascending to the captain's quarters.

An hour later, Jeremiah found himself disturbed once again by the sound of approaching footsteps, and prepared himself for any instructions. To his surprise, a line of cuffed prisoners approached the brig and were individually cast into each cell by the guards. The guards left as the prisoners grasped the bars of their cells and cried for release in desperation, one single prisoner remaining silent before facing the surgeon.

"Who the hell are _you_?" the prisoner questioned sternly, before adding "And what'd you do to get here?" Jeremiah knelt and answered "I'm a surgeon for this crew. But they lock me up in here to keep me from leaving". "A surgeon, you say? And yet, they would treat you as much a whelp as _us_!" the man muttered, "And they consider _us_ to be villains". As he said this, the man produced a key from his pocket and inserted it into the lock, Jeremiah debating whether to alert this action to the crew he was sworn to serve.

The man approached the surgeon's cell door and whispered sternly "Not a sound from you, and we may even take you with us". Jeremiah nodded furiously as his door was opened, allowing him to follow the rest of the prisoners to the top deck. Because of his unfit physique, he was left behind and could only hear the sounds of combat and death as he approached the top deck, opening the door to his freedom.

He witnessed as the prisoners would steal the weapons from the guards and proceed to kill them with their own tools for war. Jeremiah ascended the stair to the upper deck and found the lead prisoner and his allies standing before the captain's cabin. "Come out and face us, you coward!" the leader shouted. Jeremiah sighted a pair of cannons on either side of the deck and approached the leader, explaining "Use those cannons, and you won't even need to have him come out!"

Obliging to this plot, Jeremiah, the leader and his men heaved the cannons and fixed them towards the door, the leader lighting the fuses and preparing for the sudden sound of inevitable death and destruction. The cannons went off and a barrage of grapeshot was fired through the cabin's entrance, undoubtedly piercing and puncturing any living morsel inside with iron nails. However, Jeremiah was unprepared for the recoil and was sent with the cannon through railing behind him.

Dazed from the experience, Jeremiah would next feel a sudden bout of agony in his right leg, forcing him to sit up from his landing and examine the damage. The cannon and continued through the wooden panelling and down towards the bottom of the hull, crushing and dragging the teenager's leg with it. Disoriented from the blood loss, he saw the leader escape with his men in the lifeboat, laughing at the surgeon as they descended into the water.

Jeremiah crawled to the descending stairwell and tumbled ungraciously toward the bottom deck, clambering through the brig as he made his way to his chamber. Water had begun filling within the ship from the destruction left by the cannon, offering to hasten the surgeon's next scheme. He took a satchel of his surgical tools and retreated back up the staircase to the upper deck, producing a needle and a thread as he removed the hanging cloth from his bloody stump.

* * *

The HMS Shark had eventually vanished into the ocean, its contents and purpose remaining a mystery for any living souls who were originally aboard. Several hours it took before the ship would sink below sea level, time enough for the final passenger on the vessel to concoct a means of escaping a watery grave. All it took was several materials to be salvaged from the wreckage, along with any provisions to last the following journey across the sea.

Jeremiah had finished assembling the materials and bound them together with rope, finally creating a sturdy makeshift raft for himself. As soon as he could, he exhaustedly dragged the device across the submerged deck, before climbing aboard with his equipment and waiting for the ship to finally be submerged. Finally, as his raft was lifted above the waves, Jeremiah took his oar and began paddling across the yonder ocean.

Many times during his journey did he meet with the presence of potential death, though the source of death's presence would alter. For the lack of drinkable water, Jeremiah had taken a metal cooking pot from the ship and filled it with seawater, and would leave it exposed to the sun's rays. Over time, the water would be purified and suitable for drinking, though Jeremiah would become parched of thirst from the wait.

For a source of food, he would use the skeletons of previously eaten fish and hang them from the side of the raft, attracting all manners of sea life to his presence. From there, he would take a wooden plank and thrash violently against the water, surely killing several of the fish with the blunt force of the weapon. Lacking a method to cook the fish, Jeremiah was forced to eat the meat raw, finding himself in several situations of regurgitating the revolting swill.

This torment would continue for Jeremiah for the next two weeks of his life, though he found it all to be rather ironic. This situation could be considered the third time he had ever been a prisoner of the surrounding threat of death, and he had no longer any sanity to sacrifice by this time. He was perfectly willing to continue the fruitless quest for survival until he eventually would die, and he had no hope that this would change.

But one day, against the overwhelming odds that were stacked against him, he was awoken from his sleep to the sound of the waves thrashing violently against his raft. He viewed his surroundings and was flabbergasted to find a ship in the yonder distance. He grabbed his plank of wood and stood himself upright with it, before waving his free hand madly and shouting at the top of his lungs "Over here! Help me!"

He was delighted to see that the ship began turning in his general direction, though Jeremiah became worried by the lack of national colours on the flag. The ship was manned by pirates, and they were intending to take him aboard and possibly make him their prisoner. Nevertheless, he called for their assistance, until they were finally in range for a life boat to be sent to investigate him.

He was brought back and taken to the top deck of the ship, where awaited the crew and the captain. "Who be _this_ young pup!" the captain demanded, gazing upon the young whelp with his only eye. "I'm Jeremiah!" the boy grovelled fearfully, "I was a prisoner of the Shark before I escaped, and I've been sailing on that raft ever since!" "The HMS Shark?! We sank that very ship a fortnight ago! A fortnight of a starving belly and unquenchable thirst" the captain exclaimed in surprise.

"What were you doing on that ship, you little runt? Speak!" a black hatted man shouted, Jeremiah shuffling away in fright. "I-I-I was a surgeon! They made me stitch people up when they were dying" the boy explained, "I even had to stitch up my own leg when the ship sank!" Jeremiah then grasped the protruding stump of his former right leg, the crew murmuring in shock and amazement of this tale.

"This young lad be a survivor if I ever did meet one!" the captain announced to his audience, before turning to face the child and adding "And besides, ye could be of good use to me crew as a surgeon, lad". "You mean…?" the boy asked before falling silent, the captain turning away to face his crew and commanding "Take the lad to the captain's cabin! That's an order!"

Following several hours of nursing to health, Jeremiah, or 'Shorty Leg' as the pirate's would tease, remained on the top deck of the ship, carving a plank of wood with intent to fashion a prosthetic limb from it. Soon, One Eyed Jack left his cabin and approached the surgeon, questioning "When should ye be finished with that?" "It should only take a few hours to finish. I'll need both legs if I wanna do something as hasty as surgery" Jeremiah explained.

As the captain nodded and turned towards his cabin's entrance, he heard Tecker say "It's so strange, the chances of a ship finding me out in the middle of this damn ocean. It's like we were destined to meet". One Eyed Jack sneered at this philosophy, stating "There's no single thing by the name of destiny in life, destiny is made by all men to be their own".

 _Joined in the year 1717 as the Jolly Roger's Surgeon._


	7. Chapter 7 - Mr Eye

**Chapter 7: Mr. Eye, the Hounsi of Elizabeth Jarret**

 _"Mr. Eye may have another name. Who knows?" - One Eyed Jack_

Mr. Eye is the infamous title offered to a Hounsi of voodoo, an African child born into slavery at a young age. He was born in 1693 within Mauritia in the village of Nouamghar, though many details of his childhood have remained a mystery. Living in Nouamghar, his mother was a widowed African slave, though he never had the opportunity to learn of his father's name or identity, considering the he had since passed away prior to his birth.

Under slavery in his own homeland, his master, known simply as governor Cotton, had begun purchasing slaves to become servants for his establishment in Haiti, an island along the eastern coast of North America. The purchased servants, excluding the young African child and his mother, were to be transported across the Atlantic Ocean on a navy ship, whilst the rest of the village would be culled by navy soldiers.

In a fit of desperation, the mother took her child and ran towards the navy soldiers, who readied their firearms for an oncoming attack. However, the governor raised his hand and shouted a command towards his troops, though the family could not understand a single word that was said. Apparently obeying the command, the men lowered their arms and gazed expectantly towards the mother and her child.

She kneeled in submission and held her son's arm, before gently pushing him towards the encroaching captors. The men conversed amongst eachother in confusion, but seemed to understand the woman's intentions and approached the boy. The boy was taken from his mother and was led towards the shores of Mauritia, where waited an enormous vessel swarming with navy soldiers.

The moment the boy was placed amongst the rest of the purchased slaves, the soldiers stood in a series of aligned rows as their commander instructed them, before the army began marching towards the village. The slaves were led aboard the vessel and into the brig, where they were each imprisoned in their own individual cell. The child without a name remained seated inside of his cage, perfectly aware of the intentions that the marching soldiers had, as well as the fact that he would never see his mother ever again.

The child would cry silently and mourn for his lost family and friends, whilst cursing the ruthless nature of the British monarchy. He refused to cooperate with his captors, who would punish him accordingly with animalistic techniques. The boy would curse the vulnerability that his emotions would expose whenever he was in extreme pain, and the weakness he would express to his fellow captives.

The journey to this homeland of the Americans took almost a month to complete, a month of sating the boy's hunger with leftover gruel, occasional torture and constant threats and unintelligible ramblings from his captors. The nameless child would have lost the will to live have it not been for the fellow inmates and the pride of his heritage, whom he would have dishonoured for any notion of suicide from this torment.

Finally, the vessel had landed along the shores of Haiti, and the slaves were released from their cells and escorted along the docks. By carriage, the governor had his servants transported inland towards his establishment, a plantation fraught with wealth and luxury. This is where the nameless boy was doomed to waste his life away, in service to a man who deserved none. However, despite the chaos that had unfolded in his life, he would soon find salvation of an unnatural kind.

In the following years of service to the governor, all the way to the age of 24, he had become acquainted to the many servants and occupants of the establishment, though only few had his closest interests. A pair of fellow servants, a duo of African footmen known as the Kyk Suens, or the Look Boys by English tongue, were former gatherers of an African clan living within the newly named country of Botswana. Much like the nameless child, they had been purchased in a slave trade and their own village had been slaughtered.

The other was the assistant of the governor, a mysterious woman whom the governor would address as Elizabeth Jarret. As curious as her name was, her appearance was no less than awe-inspiring. Flawless skin with hair as black as ebony, and a face that expresses nothing less than sheer beauty. This woman intrigued the nameless man, who intended to learn as much of her history and intentions as he could.

* * *

Even as he approached the age of 29, the young man could not explain his infatuation towards the woman, considering their opposing cultures. Elizabeth would ask of him to perform chores, and would speak in a truly hypnotizing way. The words she would speak would surround him in a tight embrace and echo through the household, and the man would have no choice but to submit to her commands and see to his duties.

He would have the urge to impress the lady with his skill during the course of his duties, and though he could not understand her words, her voice would speak kindly to him and offer him comfort. He had considered his affection for Elizabeth to be a matter of love, though he would dismiss the idea, as love could only be possible if both lovers would express their affection. From this, he would wait patiently for Elizabeth to offer confirmation and admit her love for him.

One night, however, he had been disturbed from his sleep be a reflecting light in his window. He would sleep within the stables amongst the strange tamed riding mounts, his bed merely a straw slab within the far corner of the animal cages. He left his sleeping quarters and looked towards the mansion, spotting a reflecting light within the main hall windows. Curious, he watched as the front door opened and a lone cloaked figure stepped forth into the night, armed merely with a lantern to guide their way.

The nameless man approached the figure, armed with a pitchfork to defend himself from a potential attacker. The figure merely removed her hood and gazed upon the stable master, releasing her jet black hair and exposing her jade eyes. "Do not fear me…" echoed faintly around the man, though he himself was baffled by the source of this voice. "Join me…" followed as Elizabeth smiled calmly towards the faithful servant, "Become my ally… for all eternity".

As if under some form of dark spell, the man could not help but obey these commands and followed after the beauty. They ventured into the surrounding woodlands and happened across a bonfire, though the foliage and thick overgrowth of the forest would hide any trace of the bonfire's light. There, Elizabeth and her follower was greeted by three fellow servants, a Jamaican woman and the Look Boys.

Aligned before the bonfire were three coffins, each opened in preparation for a host. "Enter the coffins…. And you shall become… immortal" echoed amongst the group as the bonfire suddenly flared with a mysterious green light. "Surrender to me, my friend…" Elizabeth spoke softly to her follower, her words easily understandable by him from some unknown anomaly, "and we will be together… for all time".

Without resistance, the three servants entered their coffins as the lids were closed upon them, and each drifted into a deep sleep. Fourteen days and fourteen nights were passed as the ritual was performed, day by day, the servants felt their wills breaking. Upon the fourteenth morning, the coffins were re-opened, the servants opening their eyes and rising from their slumber. The nameless boy stood before the awaiting beauty, whom offered a blindfold to him, "Now… you are all my slaves".

Elizabeth and her followers traversed through the wilderness towards their former home, the newly named Jicho, the eye of the Swahili, following thoughtlessly behind. The Eye was blindfolded as his eyes could no longer see, though he could now see beyond what his own eyes were capable of. The servants finally returned to the plantation, the starry night blanketing their presence in a shroud of darkness.

They entered the main hall and were confronted by the governor himself, though the Eye could still not understand what was spoken from him. He watched as Elizabeth gazed into the eyes of the governor, her jade stare making short work of the man's senses. The governor stood silently, as Elizabeth Jarret whispered "You are my creature… governor… my pet…" before commanding him with a wave of her finger.

"We must destroy this place… my allies" she instructed, both the Eye and the Look Boys grasping the mounted torches along the walls and tossing them upon the curtains in each room of the house. The entire plantation was soon ablaze and began crumbling as the arsonists took their leave. They ventured towards the docks and browsed for any means of escape. Soon enough, they managed to enlist themselves onto a touring vessel for the wealthy, before haply slaying all members aboard and commandeering the ship for themselves to head out to the open ocean.

* * *

It would be the year of 1724 and at the age of 31 before the Eye would meet his destiny, and it would be met in a favourable fashion. The crew of four had sailed aboard the vessel and scoured across the shores of South America, lotting settlements and recruiting an entire battalion of mindless slaves. Each Slave fulfilled a purpose of combatting soldiers and looting ships before they would eventually succumb to starvation.

The vessel had maintained the years of warfare and had managed to circle the entirety of South America, finally reaching its final destination of Mexico. They settled along the western shores of the state of Chiapas and ventured inwards towards San Cristobal, with intent to pillage and plunder any wealth that could be obtained. The Mexicans would have no knowledge of their undead brethren and would underestimate their invulnerable nature and thirst for violence.

The horde had finally arrived in San Cristobal, and the zombies ran rampant through the streets, mindlessly beating the citizens to death and thieving any possible valuables they could find. Elizabeth, Cotton, the Eye and the Look Boys ascended upon the City Hall, their undead slaves swiftly overwhelming the guards and invading the building. However, upon entering the main hall, the invaders were met with a surprise.

Within the main hall, aligning along the staircases and balconies, were an armada of awaiting Mexican soldiers. Nevertheless, the thoughtless servants assimilated the battalion as the soldiers open fired upon them, Cotton amongst them in the hellish fray. The leading military officer, known by the name Joaro de la Cruz, drew his sword and stood before the Eye, the blind slave standing undefended by any means.

Joaro struck at the Eye with his rapier, though the blind slave had managed to dodge the deadly strike and step inwards into the main hall. He spotted a dropped matchlock rifle laying on the floor and quickly armed himself with it, aiming the bayonet towards his combatant. The officer swung his blade a second time, though bayonet of the firearm ensnared the blade and misdirected the attack. With his only means of defence preoccupied, the Eye quickly took his opportunity and jammed the blade into the officer's gut.

Frightened and disoriented from his swift loss of blood, Joaro turned for the door and stumbled his way towards the front gates. The Eye burst through the doors and found that the fleeing coward had become too far away to face in traditional combat, and was dismayed by the lack of ammunition the firearm contained. On a whim, he raised the firearm over his shoulder and tossed it with immense strength, the rifle travelling over thirty feet and impaling his target through the spine.

As the odds began to tip in their favour, Elizabeth and her minions had begun looting the city hall and made their return to their vessel. The Eye and the Look Boys had hijacked a carriage for them and Elizabeth to ride, and each slave that would succumb to exhaustion during the return would have their loot taken by their followers. They finally returned to the vessel and boarded it, though they were met with a new surprise when ascending to the deck.

As soon as they entered the captain's cabin, the five leaders were ambushed and subdued by unknown encroachers. As they were bound by their wrists and ankles, they felt the ship begin departing from the shore, leaving the mind slaves behind to eventually die of starvation. The leader of this attack revealed himself before the looters, a captain of the British military sporting a pale-white beard and a withered complexion.

The ship sailed out to sea until a second ship loomed into view over the horizon, the very sight of the ship leaving Elizabeth Jarret in awe. "It can't be…" she huffed in disbelief, "That's the Flying Dutchman!" She turned to the captor and exclaimed "Then… you must be-" before the captain bellowed with laughter, "None other than the infamous Captain Nichols!"

The crew were to spend an unforeseen future within the brig of this legendary vessel, the very ship that had been praying upon pirate ships and villages for almost thirty years. Elizabeth remained confident of their eventual escape, though the Eye had no emotion to share for their predicament. They merely awaited in silence as Elizabeth concocted their escape, and their salvation would come from a source that would be most unexpected.

 _Joined in the year of 1724 as the ship's Lookout._


	8. Chapter 8 - Elizabeth Jarret

**Chapter 8 - Elizabeth Jarret, the Arm of the Evil Powers**

 _"In Elizabeth's eyes, I saw our destiny! And death became an illusion!" - One Eyed Jack_

Elizabeth Jarret was born in the year of 1697, though her specific origin and the identities of any of her relatives have long been lost to history. Her childhood has been a mysterious series of events, and have often been speculated as the source of many historical events. All that has ever been known of this sadistic and psychopathic worshipper of the dark arts is her hatred for all of humanity, beginning ever since her conversion to Christianity.

At an unknown time and age in her youth, she had been raised by a governor of the British monarchy, by the name of Cotton. A deeply religious man, the governor would educate Elizabeth as a young child and convince her of the origins of God and the forces of good and evil. He would have her pray for those who had found themselves victims of the many heretics that scoured the world, and have her consider them be of a hellish nature and to require culling from the world.

Elizabeth, however, was not fooled.

Elizabeth was aware of the intentions of the church from the very beginning, their desire to eliminate all potential threats to their delusions and to eventually rule the entire world. She would study the religion of Christianity simply from curiosity of what stories and lessons she would learn and follow, had it not been for her interests in alternate sources of education at the hands of other religions.

By the age of 18, and in the year of 1715, Elizabeth was legally of age to marry, though her intentions would not be of a similar nature. Having no intention of simply being married off to some form of wealthy tyrant or reputable celebrity, she had refused any means of enactment in her undesired marriage. However, the monarchy, including Cotton, had other plans, and it was soon decided that Cotton himself was to be wed to the young wench.

Learning of these intentions, Elizabeth was truly shocked and outraged, and confronted the governor on the matter. "What gives a foul man such as you the right to marry me without my permission" she spat viciously. The governor glared sternly upon her and answered "As a representative of the church and British law, I am authorised to wed any lady of my choice. In this case, that's _you_ , you ungrateful bitch!"

"Under the law?! Christianity is merely a means of controlling power that is not deserved!" she accused, the governor offering a sinister scowl as she added "And you know that… don't you?" The governor raised his hand struck the woman with all the force he could muster, sending her tumbling to the floor and laying in disorientation from the trauma. "Learn your place, for otherwise, I'll have no true use for you" he threatened, before taking his leave.

Elizabeth simply remained on the floor, baffled by her predicament and how she could have her pain be unavenged. Simply from his connection to the holy church, the governor was practically invincible, a force of evil and suffering that could not be restrained, much like the lord of all evil himself. Nevertheless, a person of Cotton's sort deserves nothing less that to be purged, or to have the privilege permanently unobtainable.

However, as she considered these unholy contemplations, she found herself approached by one amongst many of Cotton's multiracial servants. The servant, a Jamaican woman, offered her hand to the student, though Elizabeth refused it and ascended to her appropriate stance on her own. "I've not seen you before" she muttered to herself, aware the woman would not understand her English language.

"I am not of this land" she suddenly heard behind her, prompting her to turn and face her consultant in sheer surprise. "How did you-" she began before the foreign woman raised her hand to impede her, "I speak in all tongues I require". "What manner of dark magic is this?" Elizabeth questioned, becoming cautious of this woman's potential. "I follow the spirits. Voodoo is my ally, and my weapon" the woman replied.

"Voodoo?" Elizabeth asked, "The rituals of undead preservation? The practise of black spells to perform anomalous acts". "Thus is the way of the voodoo, and the will of all anomalous powers, Cthulhu hisself" the woman whispered eerily. Awed and fascinated by this newly uncovered religion, Elizabeth questioned "How could I learn to follow this cultural practise?", though the woman knew she could not describe the powers themselves with mere words.

* * *

The Jamaican voodoo cultist led Elizabeth Jarret to the outdoors and deep into the country, traversing through the marches and tropical woodlands. Elizabeth grew impatient of this example of the capabilities of voodoo, the rotting stench of wood and the salty air progressively irritating her eyes. The cultist was aware of the woman's impatience and intending to sate it as swiftly as she could.

Finally, they halted their journey through the marshlands and settled in an open section of stable ground, where sat a prepared campfire. The cultist crouched down and lit the fire, as Elizabeth sat on the opposite end and awaited for the fire's ignition. Suddenly, beyond Elizabeth's expectations, the fire instantly spouted a wave of flames, and she was forced to shield her eyes to protect herself from the light.

"Cthulhu fhtagn… Cthulhu fhtagn… Cthulhu fhtagn…" the cultist chanted repeatedly, the fire seeming to bend and twist to her will. "Impossible…" Elizabeth exclaimed in surprise, only for the cultist to answer "All power can be controlled… when you learn the way to control it". The cultist then reached into her bag and retrieved some form of baton, decorated in black stripes and emerald green feathers.

"Eiaaaeh! Eiaaaeh! Eiaaaeh!" the woman chanted loudly, the fire turning an unnatural green colour in response to her spell. Elizabeth felt a strange sensation in her body, and found herself unable to feel her muscles. She attempted to speak, though her voice failed her and she was forced to remain silent, leaving her to succumb to a braindead state. The flames died down and Elizabeth collapsed into the grass, her consciousness fading as she passed out.

Elizabeth could not fathom how long she had been unconscious for, though she speculated that only an hour had passed since the ritual. She awoke to find the cultist at the fire, continuing to bend the flames to her will. "Wha… What happe..." she wheezed breathlessly, the cultist ending her spell abruptly to answer, "You were shown the true powers of voodoo… you are worthy to learn the dark arts".

Out of curiosity, Elizabeth asked "And what if I wasn't worthy?" as she sat up in the grass and straightened her posture. "You would have been exposed to the presence of Cthulhu" the cultist answered, "Those who gaze upon the face of insanity shall die". Shocked by this, Elizabeth exclaimed "You mean I could've died from this?!", and the cultist smiled wickedly "You could've… but you _didn't_ ".

Years passed since the beginning of this training to wield the power of the dark arts, and Elizabeth found her control increasing with each lesson. Seeking use of the servants within the governor's manor for use in practise, she would perform various minor spells upon them and feign ignorance of their expressed confusion. A single nameless servant of African descent showed an uncomfortable infatuation towards the student, though Elizabeth convinced herself that she could have use for this.

Eventually, the cultist had sworn to teach Elizabeth the means to bend the sanity and consciousness of an individual to her will and create loyal mind slaves. They had planned to arrange a ritual in the hidden campsite within the woodlands, though Elizabeth never considered being caught to be a potential hindrance. Her admirer approached her in the night as she was traveling to her mentor, though she required little effort to twist his intentions and earn his trust.

Elizabeth led her admirer to the campsite and reunited with the cultist, along with two previously arrived servants of the manor house. Laying before the gathering was a row of coffins, each opened for the servants to enter and be transformed. " _I_ shall begin this ritual… do not assist me, mentor" Elizabeth informed, the cultist remaining silent and nodding in confirmation. Within seconds, the fire was lit and that spell was channelled, Elizabeth finally mastering the most powerful spell she could learn.

After a minute of chanting the unholy words and channelling the twisted magic, the spell finally ended and the fire was doused. "Have I completed the spell, mentor?" she questioned, the cultist nodding and answering "You have mastered the practise of voodoo and now control the dark arts, as I had sworn". The cultist then stepped away from the burial site, her arms folded behind her back, "Within a pair of Mondays, those goons shall be yours to command".

"Thank you for my teachings, mentor" she complemented gratefully, the cultist merely chuckling in pleasure. However, to the mentor's obliviousness, Elizabeth reached into her bag and produced a small cloth doll, before drawing a small pin and whispering a quiet chant. Curious of the student's actions, the cultist turned and was frozen in shock as a sudden pain in the back of her neck had brought the cultist to her knees.

The last words the cultist heard in this world, "Time for the slave to replace the master".

* * *

Fourteen days had passed, and the servants were baffled by the absence of their fellows; the stable master, the footmen and the infamous cultist. Elizabeth would refuse to confess any knowledge of their fates, and the governor and his servants would consider nothing more of the matter. In the end, the servants were speculated to have fled from the manor and their service to the governor, a conclusion that relieved Elizabeth.

However, on the following Monday morning, Elizabeth left the manor and proceeded into the forest, intentionally avoiding notice from any resident of the manor. She returned to the campsite and gazed upon the graves, before she approached them and opened each coffin's lid. Laying there in a catatonic state were the nameless servants, awaiting the moment of their resurrection and return to the mortal world.

Elizabeth relit the fire and began chanting her spell, the fire twisting and bending in a manner of unnatural ways. As she finished her chant, she watched with delight as the lifeless bodies proceeded to rise from their tombs and stand upright before their new master. The nameless stable master's eyes had ruptured as a result of the spell, though Elizabeth was willing to offer a woven cloth to wear as a blindfold.

Elizabeth and her trio of mindless minions left the forest and returned to the manner house, the night sky and light of indoor lanterns exemplifying the residents' current activities. Elizabeth opened the doors to the manor house and entered the main hall, surprised to find Governor Cotton awaiting her return. "A witch! Dabbling in demonic rituals! As I suspected!" he declared, before gazing upon the undead servants following in her steps.

"My servants! Twisted into slaves!" he exclaimed in surprise, before drawing a cutlass and threatening the witch, "I shall have you hanged for these crimes against God!" The governor did not expect the witch to begin cackling hysterically, before she stated "My dear Cotton… I do not fear death". She approached him and was delighted to watch the man begin twitching and writhing uncontrollably, before she whispered "There are worse fates to fear".

Elizabeth, Governor Cotton and the three servants would soon disappear off the face of the earth, and all knowledge of them within the island of Haiti would be lost along with them. The British navy had searched across the entire island to find the missing governor, though they soon gave up the investigation of his disappearance. None would know of the destiny that the Arm of the Evil Powered was soon to discover.

Elizabeth had earned a reputation amongst the fearful residents of South America, as Elizabeth had been looting entire villages and enslaving common townsfolk as minions. She had become known all across the states of South America, as all had described sightings and multiple attacks from the dreaded witch. None would dare to face such a viscous predator of ships and settlements, none except the most notorious predator of them all.

The Flying Dutchman.

The captain, the infamous Nichols, had become a legend amongst navy fleets and pirates alike, and was feared all across the globe for the Flying Dutchman's accomplishments. The infamous ship had been scouring across the globe and eradicating all enemies of the British monarchy for over thirty years, and never had the ship ever found a suitable opponent to combat. To most who had survived the wrath of the Dutchman, the damned ship was truly Invincible.

Nichols had learned of the name Elizabeth Jarret and her deeds along the coasts of South America, and soon speculated the destination of her next possible attack. Nichols sailed across the many shores of Mexico and eventually discovered a ship that matched the description, and were relieved to find it uninhabited once they had climbed aboard. They entered the captain's cabin and awaited the witch's return, expectant of furthering the Dutchman's legend by defeating this horrific foe.

Eventually, Elizabeth and her minions did return and entered the cabin, before they were each suddenly sprung by the ambush. Nichols took the crew as prisoners and hijacked the ship to sail the open ocean, finally finding the Flying Dutchman and bringing their new prisoners aboard. Elizabeth and her followers were led to the brig and confined within individual cells, though Elizabeth found a great irony in it all.

Before he was confined, Nichols examined Cotton and identified him as a governor from Haiti, and was delighted by the fact that his name had been forgotten by all who may have known him. The thought delighted her, in contrast to her attempts to enslave Nichols as her slave, to which she was baffled by his apparent immunity to her power. Nichol's only answer for this abnormal occurrence, "Your voodoo trick shall not affect me, witch. My will is not feeble like your followers".

Defeated and laying in anguish, she contemplated her fate and her destiny beyond the grave, and became fearful of suffering in hell for her sins. She became desperate for her salvation, and began consulting the spirits for guidance, whispering her pleas for aid as she sat in her prison. "May there be one who could rescue me from my fate. May they hear my call and be guided to me. For this, I shall have eternal gratitude for my saviour and offer my existence for them".

The plea for rescue was called, and a One-Eyed Man had heard it.

 _To be Concluded._


	9. Chapter 9 - One Eyed Jack - FINALE

**Chapter 9: One Eyed Jack, the Captain of the Jolly Roger**

The latest attack on Gibraltar was lost, the land of Cao Bang had been massacred, and The Viceroy of the Prado had been assassinated, thousands in Terra Nova had died from food poisoning, the governor of Haiti had mysteriously disappeared, and South America suffered the terror of the Arm of the Evil Powers. Many historical events had occurred in the passed thirty years, all of them more alike than anyone could ever imagine.

The Flying Dutchman sailed across the lapping waves of the Pacific Ocean, travelling west to the neighbouring continent of Asia. The Captain, Nichols, had finally collected his latest prey, a person of great infamy that had been terrorizing the many states of America. Elizabeth Jarret was now a prisoner of the indestructible vessel, a helpless and vulnerable prisoner of the brig without a hope of escape. Even as she consulted the spirits for aid, she believed she had no chance of escape.

Captain Nichols intended to travel to the Caribbean islands, intent on having his newest captives executed by his fellow British royal guard. From here, the legend of the Flying Dutchman would continue to surmount and the British monarchy could would come closer to eliminating all potential threats to their conquest. Little had the crew expected that fate would intertwine with their intentions, and the Flying Dutchman would be challenged by an unlikely rival.

The Dutchman sailed through the foreboding dawn, nothing to consider but the putrid stench of seawater and the constant splashed of waves. Little was done for the night, as most of the crew has been sleeping after a hard day's work. The morning mist descended up in the ocean and surrounded the vessel, shrouding the environment from the crew's view. From this, the crew could have no chance of preventing a potential attack.

Suddenly, a loud explosion echoed in the distance, grasping the entire crew's attention and alerting them of potential danger. The crew ascended to the top deck and began searching frantically for the source of the explosion, though none could be seen through the infernal mist. Suddenly, a large silhouette emerged from the port quarter of the ship, aimed directly for the hull. The cannoneers, not intent of investigating the intentions of the unknown vessel, rushed to the lower deck and armed the cannons for a battle.

All at one, the Dutchman's cannons fired upon the approaching vessel, and could hear a series of successful hits upon the bow. Nevertheless, the ship continued towards them and swiftly turned towards the stern, allowing the ports of both ships to face the other. From the sped of the encroaching attacker, the ships collided, sending the crew of the Dutchman collapsing across the quaking deck.

Immediately, they were cries and shouts from the enemy ship, and several black figures flew through the air and landed upon the deck. Unprepared, the crew hastily dew their swords and assimilated the attackers, and a bout of swordplay began. The attacking vessel began sinking, and any remaining crewmembers had fled for the Dutchman. The last to flee the ship gave a backward glance upon his former ship; "Farewell, Roger, ye've done ne proud!"

The mist had begun fading, and the One Eyed Man scoured the ship for the captain, finally spotting him amongst the fray. "Nichols! Yer days have come to an end!" he called, before drawing his sword against the famed captain, who shouted "One Eyed Jack, you shall descend to hell where you belong!" All around the captain, he could hear as his colleagues were dying, falling before the invaders of his ship. In the end, Nichols found himself outmatched by the One Eyed Man, and was soon impaled through the gut by his opponent's cutlass.

Nichols fell in defeat before the victor, and two crewmembers began tying him by his arms in a rope. The aged captain was lead to the plank, the One Eyed Man sending him stumbling towards his fate. "Ye have any last final words, Nichols!" One Eyed Jack called mockingly to the failed captain, who cried "Be it me or another, you shall die by my sword, Jack!" With this, Nichols plummeted into the ocean water, where he was no doubt devoured by a number of sea predators.

"Over here, Captain!" called a peg-legged lackey, whom stood above an open grate leading to a stairwell. Jack passed the captain's sword, which had found itself firmly implanted into the deck of the vessel, and approached the stairwell before descending it. There was little surprise that the crew had begun searching for any potential loot, though they seemed disappointed by a lack in any values worth the trade.

"Those fools" the captain thought to himself, "Had they already forgotten why they be here?" Jack continued his descent into the brig and approached the cells, searching expectantly before stopping. He spotted a beauty, a woman clad in a black dress with a pale complexion, curled vulnerably in a corner. He took a hammer and busted the lock to the cell, catching the young beauty's attention who stared in shock of the new arrival.

"You…" the woman wheezed hoarsely, "Who are you?" The man stood before her and offered his hand, "I be yer saviour, Elizabeth" he answered calmly. Elizabeth's eyed widened in disbelief, "The spirits be praised, you've come to rescue me!" she cried with surprise. As she ascended by her saviour's hand, she held him firmly and asked "How could I ever repay you?!" One Eyed Jack held her cheek in his hand and answered "Being a lady of many talents, ye shall not find many problems with that".

Elizabeth had offered a contract for One Eyed Jack and his crew, calling upon the spirits to grant her their power. From this moment onwards, the crew of the Flying Dutchman she be granted eternal youth. Naturally, the crew could not resist the opportunity and agreed, as they felt the limitations of age release from their souls. From this, Elizabeth swore obedience to One Eyed Jack and would anything by his command, a detail Jack took advantage of the following night.

* * *

A hundred years would pass since this fateful event, and a hundred legends of the Flying Dutchman would entail. Knowledge of this siege of the Dutchman would spread across from one country to another, and all would become fearful of the potential danger this new threat could provide. If the Flying Dutchman was in the hands of pirates, none could fathom the anarchy they could administer with the power they had obtained.

A hundred years would pass as settlements and ships would find themselves prey to the might of this indestructible vessel, and the crew that commanded it. As little as weeks would pass between attacks from this ship, and all knew to fear the open ocean as a result. They would turn to using any obtainable means of transporting equipment across land, which would pave the way for several instances of automatic locomotive transportation.

A hundred years would pass as brave and foolish challengers would head out to the open ocean in order to find justice for this anarchy. Fleets of bounty hunters and navy soldiers alike would confront the might of the Flying Dutchman, and pay the fatal price of failure. From the evolving designs of weapons and firearms, One Eyed Jack sought to equip his crew with any popular tools that would be inadvertently provided by their attackers.

It was currently 1824, nearing the anniversary of the pact, and Elizabeth had expressed her bargain amongst the crew. For every hundred years, the crew must seek a child of no older than five years, kidnap her and bring her before the witch. With the powers gifted by the spirits, she could wither the child's age by a hundred years, while the crew would retained their youth for the following century. The fate of the now withered hermit would be decided amongst the crew.

The Flying Dutchman was sailing across the coast of California, following the curved shores and lining peeks for a sturdy land to port. Finally, they had happened across a large, flooded cavern, large enough for the vessel to enter without an unexpected mishap. Nevertheless, One Eyed Jack commanded a scouting party to enter the cavern and examine it for reasons of safety. As soon as the crew returned, they assured him of its safe condition and the Dutchman ventured inside.

The darkness of the cavern provided a hindrance in traversing the cavern, and One Eyed Jack couldn't judge the distance between the Dutchman's bow and the wall of the cavern. Within seconds, the bow collided with the rocky surface and channels a quaking force across both the ship and the surrounding cavern. Within seconds, rocks and stalagmites began plummeting upon the vessel, encasing the bow beneath a weighted vice of falling rocks.

Naturally, mass panic spread amongst the crew, who fret for the upcoming anniversary of their pact and their lack of a ship to aid their conquest. One Eyed Jack, devastated by the permanent fate of his ship, entered the dinghy and led his following crew from the cavern and towards the nearby beach. From here, they were to ventured inland and search for any sign of civilisation, hiking the sloping cliff side to the top of the peek.

Beyond their expectation, upon the tip of the peak, stood a small house, and the crew became intent on evicting the current tenants. They entered the house and began dispatching any occupants, Whilst Jack and Elizabeth remained outside as Jack considered his misfortune. "This house will not suffice for the entire crew" Elizabeth explained, Jack remaining silent and returning to his state of deep thought.

"I believe our days of piracy be numbered, Elizabeth" Jack sighed regretfully, Elizabeth approaching him and laying her head against his shoulder. However, Jack soon smiled as he added "And our days as outlaws have begun". "Outlaws? You believe we should begin highway and bank robberies?" Elizabeth questioned, and Jack answered "Consider it. After a hundred years creating legends at sea, we shall now distil fear in the country itself!"

"But what about the Flying Dutchman?" Elizabeth asked with concern, Jack's only response being a simple sigh of defeat. "The Dutchman be just a ship, Elizabeth. Perhaps we may free it in time, since we have all the time in the world" Jack answered as he smiled fiendishly, "because of you, my love". Soon enough, the crew had begun leaving the house and approached the captain, with expressed disappointment and dissatisfaction.

"Mates! We shall build a compound from this land. The mere house shall be replaced with a plantation" Jack announced to his crew, the crew murmuring amongst eachother. "But Captain, we have no means of building a manor house _that_ big!" Black Hat explained, Jack turning to him and glaring viciously. "Aboard the Dutchman be thousands of dollars' worth of loot! After a hundred damned years of hoarding it, I say it be high time we began _using_ it!" Jack responded.

The following night, the crew had returned to the Dutchman, with instructions to begin collecting any currency for use of bartering. Elizabeth and Jack made themselves comfortable in the vacant home, Elizabeth intent on consummating their love once again. "Jack?" Elizabeth asked as he held her in his arms, "Do you really think this is the end of the Flying Dutchman?" Jack placed a kiss upon Elizabeth's pale lips before he retracted and gave his answer.

"The end of the Flying Dutchman, and the beginning of Hell's Kitchen".

* * *

Weeks would pass since the Dutchman's landing on the newly titled Hell's Kitchen, and the crew had remained undiscovered by law. The following morning, the crew had collected the Dutchman's loot and transported it to the ransacked home upon the tip of the peak, with intent to finally spend it after years of hoarding it. After a hundred years of looting and pillaging, the Dutchman possibly carried more potential merchandise and currency than any national monarchy.

The following week would be spent hiring a building crew to construct a brand new house to replace the current one, and an enormous crew was purchased for the task. With no knowledge of the legendary vessel that sat four hundred feet beneath them, nor the knowledge of their customer's identities, the crew spent a mere four days until the final product was available. A mansion with to floors and a basement, leading to an even lower cellar floor.

However, as the men were prepared to leave, Elisabeth approached One Eyed Jack with a proposal, to which Jack smiled upon his devious lover. Elizabeth stood before the men as her eyes had claimed the men's senses, as they each left their caravan and stood before their mistress. Mr. Eye stood before her as she commanded "Jicho, my pet. Take these men to the gardens, and prepare them for burial". As he was instructed, Mr. Eye saluted his mistress and led the men towards the west of the plantation.

With their new sanctuary prepared, the next hundred years of decorating with the trophies of history would prove worthwhile. First and foremost, however, the Pirates and the Witch must account for the approaching anniversary, a mere three days away. Within that time, they must find a child within the province, before kidnapping them and bringing them to Elisabeth for her incantation. Ironically, time seemed to have stood against them.

The following morning, the town of Santa Maria had bustled with pedestrians in search for either work of trade. The local bank had opened for collection, as a scheduled deposit of donations was to be made by supporters of colonialization. Had the bank know what fate had in store for this simple establishment and its contents, none would have dared tempted fate against the oncoming chaos that was to descend upon the town.

Soon enough, a One Eyed Man and several followers stepped through the entrance, the One Eyed Wan raising a revolver into the air and firing. The piercing sound caught the attention of the bankers and their consultants, and all began screaming and collapsing to the floor. A lackey sporting a razor-rimmed hat approached the locked door, before obliterating the doorknob with a revolver and entering.

One Eyed Jack entered the room as the goons began emptying thee vaults, and pouring any currency and wealth into their bags. "Hurry up! It won't be long before the law be here!" Jack commanded as his colleagues sealed their bags shut and followed him outside. As was expected, several lawmen had arrived and begun firing upon them, though they posed little threat the crack-shot alliance of One Eyed Jack and Black Hat.

After a blazing gun show, the men stepped through the field of corpses towards a pair of agitated horses, before a sight caught Jack's eye. He turned towards the entrance and spotted a cowering figure behind the wall of the entrance, and approached it to investigate. To his surprise, he found small boy, no less than four years, clearing in a state of panic before the sinister gunman. "Ye'll be perfect" Jack exclaimed as he struck the child with the club of his revolver, instantly send the child into unconsciousness.

By the time the boy had awoken, he found himself tied to the saddle of a horse as it rode across the desolate landscape. He turned his head and spotted its destination, a mansion along the edge of a cliff, and began struggling against his bonds. They finally stopped outside the gates and the boy was carried inside by his kidnapper, and found themselves greeted by the awaiting residence. A woman in black ran to the One Eyed Man with excitement and they kissed passionately.

For the next two days, the child was held prisoner in the mansion, fed regularly to keep from withering by starvation. The boy would weep for his misfortune, though none would consider his turmoil. Finally, by Christmas Day, the boy was led from his cell in the master bedroom and outside to a clearing in the surrounding fields. Here lay a bonfire that cast a wrathful flame towards the heavens, and an ensemble of undead henchmen and the residents of the estate stood in a circle.

The child was cast to the ground and was unable to escape from his place in the dirt, and the witch began circling the fire as she mutter some strange language. Suddenly, the bonfire blaze with a violet hue, and the woman stood silently as she gazed into the flame. Beyond the child's belief, the lady entered the flamed and was encompassed by the raging inferno, though she seemed completely untouched.

She shouted to the sky as she continued her chant, and the boy began to feel a strange force begin affecting his body. His muscles numbed and his mind failed to process his actions, leading to a severance of his senses and leaving him vulnerable. Finally, the chant ended, and the fire immediately disappeared without a trace, including the kindling it fed from. The witch stepped from the fire and examined the child, or at least what he had become.

The child open his eyes and attempted to sit up, though his weakened muscles hindered him. In the span of a single minute, the child had aged by a hundred years, and was incapable of mustering any strength to move or speak. The old man was pulled up by a pair of arms and was held before his captor, and the One Eyed Man asked his lover "What's to be done with this here whelp?!" Elizabeth waved her hand dismissively, "The ritual is complete. He is of no use anymore".

Elizabeth Jarret leaned her elbows and she viewed the landscape from the second floor balcony, deep in thought. Jack entered through the door and found her, and she turned to face him with a smile as he stood before her. "Elizabeth, what be ye thinking this fine night?" he questioned as his hand passed across her field of view for emphasis. "I'm was just considering how much has happened for us, my darling" she answered as she gazed upon the front gate.

"Over two hundred years, and so many stories have been told since then" she stated, before a tear fell from her eye, "How many have been forgotten since then?" Jack stood behind his lover and turned her around to face him, "There are many stories in the world, many great ones, and many that are destined to be forgotten". Jack then embraced her as he concluded "I'll make sure the tales of One Eyed Jack, Elizabeth Jarret and the Three Master Flying Dutchman are never forgotten!"

Elizabeth held the handsome swashbuckler, who hadn't aged a day since they'd first met eachother over two hundred years ago. "All stories must come to an end eventually, my love" she stated as another tear ran down her cheek. Jack held his lover in a romantic embrace and placed his hand upon her cheek, "If our stories were to end, this would be the best ending of all". As he said this, they pulled eachother into a kiss, as the stars shone down upon them for the rest of the night.

Who is to say that love cannot last forever?

 **The End!**


End file.
